QUIETUS

9
Q U I E T U S
A ROLEPLAYING GAME OF MELANCHOLY HORROR
OLI JEFFERY
9
Q U I E T U S
A ROLEPLAYING GAME OF MELANCHOLY HORROR
OLI JEFFERY
G a m e D e s i g n , Wr i t i n g , & L ay o u t
Oli Jeffery
I l l u s t r at i o n s
Kasha Mika
Cover ar t
Thuy Tran
Editing
Lauren McManamon
Int r o d u c t i o n a n d F i l m o g r a p hy
Sarah Dobbs
T h i r t e e n Tr a g e d i e s
Alex Abou Karam, Becky Annison, Aura Belle,
Misha Bushyager, Josh Fox, Hayley Gordon,
Grant Howitt, Oli Jeffery, Brandon LeonGambetta, Lauren McManamon, Kira Magrann,
Jason Morningstar, and Nell Raban
P l ay t e s t e r s
Mathias Belger, Kate Bullock, Angel “Hijos del
Rol” Garcia, Tomer Gurantz, Bethany Harvey,
Will Hobson, Tyler Lominack, Jenny Lord,
Lauren McManamon, Ryan McNeil, Donogh
McCarthy, Dan Marks, Katy Morgan, David
Morrison, Ferrel Riley, Dylan Ross, Paul “Staxx”
Spragett, Jeff Stormer, and Sabine V.
All text and layout © 2019 Oli Jeffery, except the
introduction, filmography and scenarios, which are © 2019
their individual authors. Interior art © 2019 Kasha Mika.
Cover art © 2019 Thuy Tran.
This game owes a debt to The Between by Jason Cordova,
Blades in the Dark by John Harper, Bluebeard’s Bride by
Whitney “Strix” Beltrán, Marissa Kelly, and Sarah Richardson,
Cthulhu Dark by Graham Walmsley, Dread by Epidiah
Ravachol, Dungeon World by Adam Koebel and Sage La
Torra, Fiasco by Jason Morningstar, The Final Girl by Brett
Gillan, Lovecraftesque by Becky Annison and Josh Fox,
Monsterhearts 2 by Avery Alder, Murderous Ghosts by D.
Vincent Baker & Meguey Baker & Tremulus by Sean Preston.
This work is based on Blades in the Dark (found at http://
www.bladesinthedark.com/), a product of One Seven Design,
developed and authored by John Harper, and licensed for our
use under the Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported
license (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/).
Blades in the Dark™ is a trademark of One Seven Design. The
Forged in the Dark Logo is © One Seven Design, and is used
with permission.
Some of the text in The Conversation and the Fiction &
Agendas and Principles comes from Dungeon World by
Adam Koebel and Sage La Torra. Based on the work of Sage
LaTorra and Adam Koebel. Dungeon World is licensed under
the Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License. To
view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/
licenses/by/3.0/ or send a letter to Creative Commons, 444
Castro Street, Suite 900, Mountain View, California, 94041,
USA.
The X-Card was created by John Stavropoulos, and is
published under the Creative Commons Attribution 3.0
Unported License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://
creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/ or send a letter to
Creative Commons, 444 Castro Street, Suite 900, Mountain
View, California, 94041, USA.
CATS was published by Patrick O’Leary as part of the
200 Word RPG Contest and is used under the https://
creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ license. The
original text is here: https://200wordrpg.github.io/2016/
supplement/2016/04/12/CATS.html
Painting The Scene was codified by Jason Cordova and is used
with permission.
thanks
Oli
Thank you to the podcasts and Twitch channels that graciously
featured Quietus during its Kickstarter run: Lowell and Sherry from
The Gauntlet, Jeff from Party of One, Meghan from Modifier, Angel
from Story Always, and Katy and Mathias from Summer of Spooks.
Thank you to the whole Gauntlet community, past and present. This
game is for you.
Thanks, finally, to my wife Clare, who was very understanding when I
asked if I could spend several hundred pounds commissioning art for
a book that might not get made in the run up to the Kickstarter, and
also just generally for being rad. I love you.
Ka s h a
Horror is for everyone, and we wanted to reflect that in this book. To
all the horror fans who don’t often see themselves reflected in this type
of media, this is for you. Big thanks to Oli for the killer opportunity.
To the friends, family, and partners, immeasurable thanks for your
support and patience while I was making the art for this book. Love
you all.
Thanks also to SenshiStock and AilinStock on DeviantArt and the
Gender Spectrum Collection of stock photos on Broadly for pose
drawing references.
Int r o d u c t i o n
Ho w t o P l ay Q u i e t u s
6
14
Minimum Suggested Safety Tools
31
CATS
31
Lines and veils
32
The X-card
32
The Barest Bones
14
A game of melancholy horror
14
Checking in
33
Media touchstones
14
Open Door Policy
33
How many people is this game for?
14
How long does it take to play?
14
Dice
14
Character & Scenario Creation
36
The Conversation
15
Creating the horror
37
The Fiction
15
Random tragedies
39
The Conversation and the Fiction
15
Scores
16
Anxiety
16
Hope
17
Dread
17
The dice pool
19
After a roll
19
Increasing the chance of success
19
Tense rolls
21
Desperate rolls
21
Results per tension level
21
Scars
22
Revealing Scars
22
C h a r a c t e r s , Ho r r o r s & Tr a g e d i e s 3 6
Ho w t o R u n Q u i e t u s
46
T
h e GM’s responsibilities
46
Anatomy of a Session
49
Act I: Character & scenario creation
50
Act II: Opening scene
50
Act III: The climax
51
Act III: Epilogues
52
Decompress
52
Agenda
53
Principles
54
Interpreting dice rolls
58
30
Hope
58
Introduction to safety tools
30
Despair
59
Dread
59
Why do we need safety tools?
30
Everyone is responsible for safe play
31
Are the authors of this game just SJW snowflakes?
31
S a f e t y To o l s
T h i r t e e n Tr a g e d i e s
62
How to use these scenarios
62
A Knock at the Door
63
A Wrecking
65
Couples’ Therapy
67
The Fruit of Our Labour
70
Hallways & Exits
72
The Haunting of Hammond Hall
74
HERITAGE
76
Holes
78
Might Delete Later
80
Primum Non Nocere
82
The Putnam
84
Testament
86
Ties That Bind
88
F i l m o g r a p hy
90
Ki c k s t a r t e r B a c k e r s
95
In a sense
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our bodie
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s are mer
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Infinite
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, Geoff Ma
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Introduction
i t ’ s t h e s a d n e s s t h at g e t s yo u
It starts in the middle of the night – the crying. More
like weeping, really, a heart-rending noise of utter
despair that sounds like maybe it’s coming from
downstairs, but there’s no-one there. Could the sound
be carrying from somewhere else? The house is high
up on a cliff, so maybe it’s coming from the village,
or from a secret cave somewhere on the hillside. Or
maybe it’s something in the pipes?
Only by unravelling the mystery of the ghost’s
identity are they able to shake the sadness. Though
The Uninvited is packed with witty dialogue, some
screwball-style comedy, and a happy ending, somehow
it’s the sadness that sticks.
The Inevitability of Death
To be classified as a horror movie, a film pretty much
has to be scary. But while a series of well-executed
jump scares might be enough to give audiences
nightmares, horror movies that lean into sadness
can make us lie awake all night instead. Once the
adrenaline’s worn off, you can tell yourself that there
isn’t really a monster under your bed. But you can’t
escape the knowledge that death’s coming for you. And
for all of us.
Of course, none of those desperately strainedfor logical explanations turns out to be true. It’s a
ghost. And the main characteristic of the haunting
in The Uninvited (1944) is that it’s sad. In a kind of
supernatural take on Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca:
brother and sister Rick and Pamela Fitzgerald buy
themselves a beautiful house on the Cornish coast,
only to discover that there’s a reason it was sold so
cheaply. Yet while they are frightened to think there’s
something otherworldly sharing their home, the ghost
doesn’t really do anything threatening.
The inevitability of death is pretty much the thesis of
Carnival Of Souls (1962), Herk Harvey’s unsettling
masterpiece, in which organ player Mary (Candace
Hilligoss) crawls from the wreckage of her friend’s
car and attempts to get over the tragedy by moving
away. But her music turns sour, there’s a creepy white-
Instead, she cries at night, and the siblings find
themselves overcome with a kind of melancholy
hopelessness in one of the rooms.
6
However, there’s also a weirdly dark vein of pure
nihilism running through each and every one of them.
Final Destination 3 (2006) is the instalment that
most successfully taps into that feeling. Wendy
(Mary Elizabeth Winstead) loses her boyfriend in
a rollercoaster crash that she narrowly escapes. The
event haunts her almost as insistently as the feeling
that Death hasn’t let her off the hook yet. As audiences,
though, we know there’s no point in asking ‘what if ’.
For all the movie’s convoluted Rube Goldberg death
scenes, the message is clear: you can’t cheat Death.
Outside the cinema, sure, we know Death isn’t an
intelligent force grumpily chasing us down, but we also
know that message is true.
From a modern perspective, the ending of Carnival Of
Souls hardly feels like a twist – it’s been done too many
times now. But knowing what’s coming can’t dampen
the film’s deeply eerie atmosphere. Mary can’t get
away from the accident; no matter where she goes, the
spectre of death follows her. You know she’s not going
to escape, hasn’t escaped, never could have escaped.
As Mary’s desperation grows, the film grows ever
stranger and woozier. It’s all just so unfair – if only she
hadn’t gotten in the car that day! If only her friend had
resisted the urge to get into a race with the obnoxious
frat boys in the other car! If only they hadn’t been
about to drive over that bridge…
It’s hard not to sympathise with poor Mary, with her
pushy neighbour and touchy boss, her dead friends,
and her bottomless depression. In a way, you could
almost interpret the film’s demented ending as a happy
one, as she finally accepts what we’ve known all along
and embraces death. It’s cold comfort, but it’s the only
one available.
Sorrow
found m
e
when I
was you
ng
sorrow
waited,
sorrow
won.
No seriously, it’s Inevitable
Sorrow
There’s a similar vibe in 2000s franchise Final
Destination. It generally showcases lightweight, fun,
silly horrors where Death – with a capital D here,
definitely – tracks down a group of survivors who
manage to wiggle their way out of a massive accident
thanks to someone’s last minute premonition.
The Nat
iona
l
7
Introduction
faced man following her, and something’s drawing her
inexorably towards the abandoned pavilion out on the
edge of town...
We can’t talk about The Haunting without talking about
director Mike Flanagan, who recently reimagined the
story for Netflix (as The Haunting Of Hill House). In
his version, Nell (Victoria Pedretti) lived in the house
with her siblings Luke (Oliver Jackson-Cohen), Steven
(Michiel Huisman), Theodora (Kate Siegel), and
Shirley (Elizabeth Reaser), plus their parents Olivia
(Carla Gugino) and Hugh Crain (Henry Thomas).
Rather than being haunted by unseen forces in the
dark, she’s haunted by the vision of a woman with a
broken neck.
Actually, reality might even be worse than the movies,
because there is no grand design to our lives. We’re
going to die, whether it’s in a car crash or an elaborate
Mousetrap-style accident involving reheated spaghetti.
Tony Todd might not show up to get us, but no matter
how clever we think we’re being, we can’t win this
game.
Sadness is Scary
Sadness and horror aren’t always two separate
entities, either: sometimes, sadness itself is the horror.
Sometimes, in horror movies, sadness kills.
Throughout Nell’s life, the Bent Neck Lady appears
to her as a kind of portent, foreshadowing something
terrible. And like the Nell of the book, she can’t resist
the call of the house. Hill House wants her to die so she
can stay there forever, and she’s powerless to resist its
siren call.
Take Robert Wise’s The Haunting (1963), an adaptation
of Shirley Jackson’s novel The Haunting Of Hill House.
Here, a paranormal investigator brings a group of
people to stay in the notoriously haunted Hill House,
hoping to record scientific proof of the supernatural.
One of the party, Nell (Julie Harris), has spent most
of her life caring for her recently deceased invalid
mother. Nell’s also sensitive to the supernatural. Soon,
whatever’s in the house sets its sights on her, holding
her hand in the dark and writing messages to her on
the walls.
If you can ignore the bizarre final episode, where
we learn the Hill House’s sinister machinations are
not true in time for a tonally jarring happy ending,
Nell’s story is the most tragic of all the Crain siblings
(though, actually? Still not as heartbreakingly awful as
Jackson’s Nell, or Wise’s).
The story ends with Nell’s death, as she drives her car
into a tree on the house’s boundary. Was she killed by
a ghost (or by the malevolent house itself)? Or did
her sadness become too much to bear, driving her to
suicide? Either way, it’s clear that her depressive nature
made her vulnerable to whatever walked in that house,
in a way that her less melancholy companions weren’t.
Dragging You Down
Mike Flanagan has form with the sad horror subgenre,
too. His first movie, Absentia (2011), is about a
woman declaring her husband dead in absentia,
only to discover the true – monstrous – cause of his
disappearance; his second, Oculus (2013) follows two
siblings who return to the house where their parents
died in an attempt to prove that they were the victims
8
a demon, and it’s got its eye on little Doris. Turns out
there are secrets in the walls of their family home, and
they’re not the kind you’d ever want to discover. You
don’t need to have seen Ouija to understand Ouija:
Origin Of Evil. But if you have, you’ll already know
there won’t be a happy ending. Doris’s sadness over
the loss of her dad opens her up to unimaginable evils,
revealing layer upon layer of suffering, and there’s just
no getting away from it. And Flanagan spends so much
time setting up his characters that it really hurts to
watch the horror unfold.
Yes, it’s a follow-up to the much-maligned Ouija
(2014). And yes, Hasbro (in part) produced it - which
makes it, in some ways, the worst advert for a board
game ever made. But it’s devastating. It’s the kind of
film that’s so upsetting, you want to stop watching it
halfway through, as if somehow that’ll stop bad things
happening to its characters – but at the same time, you
can’t stop, because you need to know what’s going to
happen.
You know that scene in the movie The Never Ending
Story (1984) where Atreyu’s horse Artax is drowning in
the Swamp of Sadness? That’s kind of what it feels like
to delve into Mike Flanagan’s filmography. Only Hush
(2016) and Gerald’s Game (2017) aren’t completely
crushing, and even that’s relative.
Set in the late 1960s, the film follows young widow
Alice Zander (Elizabeth Reader) and her two
daughters, Lina (Annalise Basso) and Doris (Lulu
Wilson) as they struggle to make a living through
faking séances. Alice has a gentle, comforting manner.
Her clients trust her and believe her when she tells
them their loved ones are in a better place. She’s
scamming them, but, well, in a nice way. Her clients
go away happier, more able to move on with their
lives. But in the meantime, her family struggles to
move on from the death of the dad, Roger. So when
Ouija boards go on the market, Lina brings one home
for Alice to try. Although Alice intends to use it as
just another prop, she learns the Ouija board works
without any of her usual tricks – magnets, fans, hidden
accomplices rattling the furniture.
Unfortunately, while it ‘works’, it’s not connecting the
Zanders to their dearly departed. They’re chatting with
9
Introduction
of a supernatural force. Perhaps the most upsetting
film of his oeuvre to date, though, is Ouija: Origin Of
Evil (2016).
Like The Haunting’s Nell, Amelia is struggling even
before anything remotely supernatural gets involved.
For her, too, the problem is internal – her grief,
combined with general depression, leads her to
imagine monsters, to see her own child as a source of
torture. She’s self-destructive, but also violent towards
her child: the real monster is mental illness.
The Real Monster is Your Untreated
Depression
Like most things, horror goes in cycles. At the turn
of the century, J-horror – with its vengeful, soggy
ghosts – was all the rage, with remakes of Ring (1999),
Pulse (2001), Ju-On: The Grudge (2002), Dark Water
(2002), One Missed Call (2003) and more hitting
western cinemas. Next came the torture porn wave,
spearheaded by Saw (2004) and Hostel (2005) and
bolstered by the New French Extremity wave of
brutal nasties (À l’intérieur (2007), Frontier(s) (2007),
Martyrs (2008)). Next, the chillennials – spookfests
like Paranormal Activity (2007), Insidious (2010), and
The Conjuring (2013), movies that wanted to make
you jump and keep you on edge for weeks afterwards.
That wave is still holding on, just about, with more
Conjuring-verse spinoffs on the way. But it also feels
like something else is emerging, and – surprise! – it’s
all about melancholy desperation.
The recent remake of Pet Sematary (2019) also trades
on the insanity of grief, and while it’s not entirely
effective, it does have one moment of pure, undiluted
sad-horror. You probably know the story by now: a
family moves to new house with a mysterious ‘pet
sematary’ on the property, which an elderly neighbour
reveals is the gateway to an ancient Indian burial
ground that can revive anything buried in it – except,
they come back wrong.
The movie’s one transcendent scene comes as mum
Rachel (Amy Seimetz), who’d gone to stay with her
parents following the death of her daughter Ellie (Jeté
Laurence), is called back to the family home by her
husband Louis (Jason Clarke). On arrival, she’s greeted
by a resurrected Ellie, still caked in grave dirt. Ellie
wraps her undead arms around Rachel as a manic
Louis tries to explain that everything’s okay now, she’s
back. Seimetz’s performance sells the bone-deep horror
of the moment: her revulsion as she struggles to bring
herself to embrace the thing that’s not her daughter, her
fear as she tries to understand how her husband could
think he’d made things better, and her impending
suffocation under an absolute tsunami of renewed
grief. Maybe death is terrifying, but also, sometimes
dead is better.
Jennifer Kent’s The Babadook (2014) is one of the first
to define this new wave. Like Ouija: Origin Of Evil,
it’s about a young widow struggling to bring up her
child alone, but that’s about where the similarities
end. Unlike the sweet Zander kids, Samuel (Noah
Wiseman) is a difficult, stressful child, and his mum
Amelia (Essie Davis) is barely holding it together.
And then one day a creepy children’s book about the
Babadook arrives on their doorstep, and everything
gets much harder to deal with.
10
There’s one more movie we must talk about here, and
it might be the ultimate example of how sadness and
horror can intertwine, emphasising one another. Ari
Aster’s Hereditary (2018) starts with a funeral and gets
more upsetting from there.
The scarier the real world gets, the more we need
to process our grief, our horror, and our sadness.
Monsters are scary, but they can’t get us if they’re on
the other side of a screen. Death is scary (and sad), but
staring it in the face can be an act of defiance, because
hey – if we’re watching a movie, it means we’re not
dead.
Without spoiling too much, at the end of them movie’s
first act, Peter (Alex Wolff) sits completely motionless
for a seemingly endless shot that’s itchily difficult
to watch. He knows, and we know, that something
unimaginably horrible has just happened – something
he can’t undo, something that’s sort of but not really his
fault, and something that’s going to haunt him for the
rest of his life. The something is deeply, wrenchingly
tragic as well as gruesome, and the combination is
almost paralysing.
Not yet, anyway.
Sarah Dobbs, London, 2019.
That there’s something supernatural orchestrating the
many and varied tragedies of this movie again almost
comes as a relief, because if there’s a plan, there’s a
reason – maybe not a good one, definitely not a good
one in this case. But tragedy that has a purpose feels a
little bit easier to accommodate than random suffering.
Not that it’s easy, even just to watch.
Speaking of watching, though, at this point we must
ask ourselves why we want to watch movies like this?
What is it about this moment in time that means we
need our entertainment to be ever more frightening,
ever more heart-rending? Why do we make ourselves
sad for the suffering of imaginary people when there’s
so much awfulness in the real world?
11
Introduction
The answer might be right there in the question: it’s
because there’s so much awfulness in the real world
that it’s cathartic, even pleasurable, to experience it in
a safe, fictional setting. A made-up story gives us a safe
playground to experiment with emotions that, let’s face
it, we’re all going to have to cope with for real one day.
The Horror Beyond the Horror
Becca & John
ALWAYS A LIGHT SLEEPER, BECCA HAD SUFFERED INSOMNIA SINCE LUCAS ARRIVED.
John could sleep through anything - a terrible hailstorm last year set off every car alarm in the street,
and he didn’t know shit about it until she told him the next morning. At first, she tried waking
him when Lucas cried, but it was a lost cause. So she got up, again and again, all through the night.
Counting in the hours, 3am, 4am, hello 5am. The slightest thing woke her up. Even though she didn’t
need to wake up for Lucas anymore.
The floorboards creaked. For a moment her exhaustion - borderline chronic for the past 4 years
- merged with a swelling joy as she thought she was home, and it was Lucas coming in to tell her
that he couldn’t sleep, or he was hungry, or he’d had a bad dream. That she’d just been having a bad
dream. Her eyes sprung open.
No Lucas. Of course not. Not home, either. Still in the cabin; the holiday everyone assured them
they needed after what they’d been through. Not her bed, but John still beside her, sleeping because
of course he fucking was, he could sleep through... She realised, suddenly, that if John was asleep,
something else made the floorboards creak.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw the man standing at the end of their bed. He was
holding a hammer.
Ho w to P l ay Q u i e t u s
The Barest Bones
A game of melancholy horror
How many people is this game for?
Quietus is a roleplaying game of desperation and
melancholy about ordinary people struggling against
an implacable horror. You’ll create characters with
tragic backstories, and send them hurtling headlong
into a nightmare where only their past traumas can
save them. You’ll play to find out if the characters can
survive the trauma inflicted upon them by the horror,
how far they’ll push themselves, and discover their past
scars along the way.
Quietus is for 2 to 3 people: a gamesmaster (GM), who
runs the game, and 1 or 2 other players who take the
role of one of the story’s main characters. Everyone’s
a player, but to differentiate them from now on, we’ll
refer to them as the GM and the players. If you’ve
played other roleplaying games before, this may seem
like a small group - but having more players loses the
sense of dread and isolation.
How long does it take to play?
Media touchstones
Quietus is played over a single session of around 1 - 2
hours. It’s endlessly replayable: you can tell a different
story every time by bringing in new characters, new
scenarios, and new horrors.
Quietus emulates the maudlin, desperate tone of
horror thrillers like The Strangers, Oculus, and Don’t
Look Now, where one or two people are tormented
by motiveless killers or unfathomable supernatural
forces before either being killed or barely surviving,
and never without scars. Think dread over gore - at
least initially, though these stories often build to a
horrifically violent crescendo - and tears over laughter,
always. The filmography on page 90 provides more
inspiration.
Dice
Quietus uses normal six-sided dice, like the kind you’d
get in most boardgames. You’ll need at least three although it’s best if each player has three each. The GM
doesn’t need any dice: only the players make rolls, so
you’ll need a maximum of six dice.
14
Players respond by describing their characters’ actions
and talking in character. If a main character attempts
something challenging, tense, or dangerous, the GM
will ask the player to roll some dice. After the GM
checks the result to see if the attempt was successful
or not, the GM and the players get right back into the
story, incorporating the dice rolls as they go.
The Conversation
A game of Quietus is a conversation between the GM
and the players where you’ll tell horrific and sad stories
about the characters you invent. There are no explicit
turns or rounds, no formal rules to say who should
go next. Instead, players take turns back-and-forth
through the conversation’s natural flow - much like you
would during a conversation at the dinner table. The
GM says something, the players respond. The players
ask questions or make statements, the GM tells them
what happens next.
Quietus uses several scores to pace out the story:
anxiety, hope, despair, and dread. All scores start at
zero and will rise throughout the game. Each main
character has an anxiety score that measures how close
they are to panicking, a despair score that measures
how close the horror is to killing them, and a shared
hope score that measures how close they are to getting
away from or defeating the horror. The GM has one
score, dread, which they can spend to make bad things
happen to the characters.
Quietus is never a monologue; it’s always a
conversation. Listen to the other people playing.
The conversation works best when we all listen, ask
questions, and build on each others’ contributions.
The players and the GM have separate roles in this
conversation. The players take the role of the main
characters - ordinary people in horrific circumstances.
The players’ main responsibility is playing their
character like they’re a real person, and not a horror
movie protagonist. Players should think about what
they might do if they were in that situation. The GM
takes the role of the horror, describes the world, plays
side characters, says when the dice must be rolled, and
adjudicates dice results.
You’ll learn more about how and when to makes
rolls, raise scores, and otherwise engage mechanics
throughout this book.
The Fiction
You’ll notice a lot of reference to "the fiction" in this
text - it’s just shorthand for the story that we’re telling,
and the fictional world we’re telling it in. When the
GM describes a scene, or a player describes their main
character’s actions or speech, or anyone introduces
new story elements, you’re adding to the fiction. We
distinguish the fiction from the game’s mechanics such
as rolling dice and raising scores.
How the rules shape the conversation
These roles give the conversation a loose structure. The
GM describes what’s happening in the game and asks
the players how their characters react.
15
H o w t o P l ay Q u i e t u s
T h e C o n v e r s at i o n a n d t h e Fi c t i o n
sc ores
Main characters in Quietus have three scores to track:
anxiety, despair, and hope. Anxiety and despair are
specific to each main character, and hope is shared
between both main characters. All scores start at 0
and will increase throughout the game. The GM has
their own dread score they can cash in when they see
fit. Side characters and horrors do not have their own
scores.
Despair
Despair measures how close the horror is to killing
the main character. This is both descriptive and
prescriptive - the higher the character’s despair, the
more aggressively the horror should pursue them. At
one despair, the horror may be nearby or stalking them
at a distance. At four despair, the horror should be
right on them, trying to kill them. Four despair is the
final act of a horror movie, where a single action could
save or kill the main character.
Anxiety
Anxiety measures the main characters’ panic levels.
Each main character’s anxiety starts at 0, which means
they’re calm. The higher your character’s anxiety score,
the more frantically you should play them.
When your character’s despair reaches five, the horror
kills them. No ifs, buts, maybes, or get outs. The main
character’s dead - you might choke out some last
words, but otherwise it’s the end for them. The GM and
player should work together to make their end as sad
and scary as possible.
Players can voluntarily increase their anxiety to do one
of the following:
◊ Push themselves on tense and desperate rolls to get
an extra die for your dice pool (page 19).
If there are two main characters and one dies, the
player with the deceased character is still involved. The
player can suggest consequences and complications to
the GM, and play characters in scar scenes. However,
it’s very unlikely that one of the characters will die early
in the game.
◊ Help another main character by giving them one
additional die to their die pool (page 20).
◊ Bring a story element or side character into play by
revealing a scar (page 22).
Panicking
If a main character’s anxiety ever reaches 10, they
panic. Panicking main characters can only attempt
desperate actions from that point onwards. This is true
mechanically, but also fictionally - so players should
narrate all of their panicking character’s actions as
desperate and reckless.
The GM cannot increase despair arbitrarily. Despair
will only increase through mixed results and failures,
or when the GM spends dread points
A main character cannot die until their despair reaches
five, no matter how dire their situation. That said,
players should remember to play their character as if
16
Awarding hope
When a main character’s actions would put them
closer to escape and the corresponding roll is a success
or a mitigated success, the GM must award hope.
The GM must tell the player before a roll that it may
increase their hope score. Examples could include
calling for help, repairing a sabotaged car, attacking the
horror, but can be anything if the GM thinks would
help escape or defeat the horror. However, not every
action will directly aid the character’s escape - some
actions will merely advance the story or deal with
previous consequences. If the you think an action
should raise your hope, and the GM hasn’t mentioned
it, ask them. If it sounds reasonable, they must agree.
Despair is not hit points
Despair is not a measure health or injury. Injuries can
be inflicted via consequences, but are handled entirely
in the fiction. A broken leg does not affect how many
dice you roll, but it does affect the type of actions the
main character can attempt, or the tension of a roll.
If a main character is running away from a masked
killer in perfect health, that’s probably a tense roll; if
they’re dragging themselves away from the killer with a
mangled leg, that’s a desperate roll.
Despair has no bearing on any of this - if a main
character’s despair hits five while they’re perfectly
healthy and uninjured, the horror still kills them.
Dread
The GM has a single score - dread. Like all scores in
Quietus, it starts at zero. But unlike other scores, it
decreases when the GM spends dread.
Hope
Hope is shared between the main characters. Hope is
an abstract measure of the main characters’ actions
toward escaping or defeating the horror. It starts at
zero. If hope reaches five, any main characters who
are still alive reach safety or defeat the horror. Main
characters cannot escape or defeat the horror until
hope reaches five, even if the fiction would suggest
otherwise. If the main characters try to escape or defeat
the horror - a perfectly reasonable thing for them to
attempt - the GM should steer the fiction back into the
horror’s clutches. For example, if the main characters
flee in a car when the hope score is below 5, something
will bring them back in - perhaps the horror set up
booby traps on the road to thwart escapes?
17
H o w t o P l ay Q u i e t u s
they’re a real person. Avoid using this knowledge to
take seemingly suicidal risks that don’t make sense in
the fiction.
◊ 2 dread: The GM can inflict a consequence on a
Whenever a player should suffer a consequence, the
GM can opt to take a point or more of dread instead.
The GM may take dread if a consequence doesn’t make
sense in the fiction, or when they can’t think of an
appropriate consequence right now. There’s no cap on
the amount of dread the GM can have. The GM can
spend dread at any point to inflict consequences or
raise a character’s despair, even when no roll has been
made.
main character.
◊ 3 dread: The GM can inflict a severe consequence
on a main character.
◊ 4 dread: The GM can raise a main character’s
despair by one. However, this can’t be used to
raise a main character’s despair to five - that final
quietus is up to the dice.
Sessions of Quietus generally work best when hope
and despair are roughly equal. Dread is the GM’s way
to manage that balance. If you want a faster game,
you can save up your dread and spend it all on raising
despair. If you want a slower paced, more doom laden
game, you can spend it on having consequences occur
outside of rolls.
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When you narrate your main character attempting
something difficult, the GM should ask you to make
a roll. If the GM thinks the main character’s actions
don’t amount to a challenge, the main character just
achieves what they’re attempting with no roll required.
Similarly, if the GM determines that what they’re
trying to do is impossible, the player doesn’t roll - it
just can’t be achieved. Consequences of previous rolls
should factor into what’s trivial and what’s impossible.
The GM decides the roll’s tension. The tension
indicates how severe the fictional consequences will be
for the main character upon a failure, and how likely
the main character’s despair score is to rise. The three
grades of tension are:
If your main character’s actions amount to a challenge,
the GM will ask you to roll some dice to determine the
outcome. The process of rolling dice goes like this:
a consequence or attract the horror’s attention.
◊ Uneasy: If the roll fails, the player can try a
different approach or roll again at a higher tension
level.
◊ Tense: If the roll fails, the main character will suffer
◊ Desperate: If the roll fails, the main character will
suffer a severe consequence and attract the horror’s
attention.
18
Increasing the chance of success
Once the GM decides the tension grade, you need to
grab a few dice, called a dice pool. The dice pool starts
with 1 die. The player can add up to 2 additional dice
to the pool by taking options from the list below. You
can never roll more than 3 dice for any particular roll.
Rolling a single die is a risky affair, with only a 50%
chance of a mitigated success or better. The more dice
you roll, the more likely you are to get a higher result.
Pushing yourself
You can push your main character on tense or
desperate rolls to add 1 die to your pool. Just describe
your character making an extra effort to overcome the
challenge. If you push yourself on a tense roll, roll a die
and add the result to your anxiety. If you push yourself
on a desperate roll, roll a die and divide the result by
two (rounding up), and add it to your anxiety score so rolling a 1 or 2 raises your score by 1. A 3 or 4 raises
your score by 2, and a 5 or 6 raises your score by 3.
◊ You push yourself on tense and desperate rolls
◊ You accept help from another character
◊ You work in an element introduced via a scar
◊ Your character betrays the other character
Results
After you roll your dice pool, look at the single highest
die rolled to get the result. The roll’s tension influences
the specific outcome for the fiction, but in short, a
6 is a success, a 4 or 5 is a mixed result or mitigated
success, and 3, 2, or 1 is a failure.
Receiving less anxiety when pushing yourself on a
desperate roll may seem counter-intuitive. However,
think about that moment when you go from mild
unease into a tense, fight-or-flight situation - your
After a roll
adrenalin ramps up and sends you toward panic.
After a player makes a roll, the conversation resumes.
The conversation follows the consequences of the main
characters’ actions (both successful and unsuccessful),
until another roll is required as the main characters
face another challenge. This is game’s core loop - the
GM describes the (potentially challenging) situation,
the players describe how their characters attempt to
overcome the challenge, which engages the mechanics
and may cause either hope or despair to rise, and then
we go back to the fiction. Repeat the loop until either
hope or despair reaches their limit, and the game ends.
Getting help from another character
If another character - either a player’s main character
or a GM’s side character - is willing and reasonably
able to help, the player adds 1 die to their pool.
However, the assisting character opens themselves up
to consequences if the roll fails. The consequences are
different for main characters and side characters .
19
H o w t o P l ay Q u i e t u s
The dice pool
Giving help as a main character
Until then, a player can ask a side character to help
them if it’s fictionally appropriate. If the GM agrees
that it’s reasonable, the side character grants a bonus
die to the dice pool - but they’re very likely to become
collateral damage as the main characters flee the
horror. In addition to consequences affecting the main
characters, side characters suffer as follows:
Help must come from the fiction, meaning any help
ought to be achievable and in tone with the game.
The helping player increases their anxiety by 1, and
the player receiving help adds 1 die to their dice pool.
However, helping is dangerous business. If the player
who rolled suffers a consequence (from a fail or
mitigated success), the helping character also suffers
an equivalent consequence. Likewise, if the rolling
player increases their despair after the roll, so does the
helping player.
Uneasy rolls
◊ 1 - 3: The side character is killed by the horror.
Tense rolls
◊ 4 - 5: The side character suffers a related
Giving help as a side character
consequence to yours.
A player can ask a GM’s side character for help too.
The GM should agree, unless there is a strong fictional
reason for the side character to say no. If the side
character helps, the player rolling adds an extra die
to their pool. However, being a side character is also
dangerous business. There’s a 50% chance the side
character will die, even if the main character suffers
no consequences. When a player rolls with a side
character’s help, the GM adds the consequence from
the table below to the roll’s outcome. Say a player rolls
a 2 on a tense roll - the player decides to increase their
despair and the side character succumbs to the horror.
Although side characters are helpful, the GM should
respect the fiction. Yes, side characters will usually help
main characters with mechanical bonuses until they
die. However, the GM should play side characters as
living, breathing people with their own agendas - so
they might not help in all circumstances. If things get
too tough, the side character may even abandon the
main characters as a consequence for a roll - if makes
sense for the fiction.
2
◊ 1 - 3: The side character is killed by the horror.
Desperate rolls
◊ 1 - 5: The side character is killed by the horror.
Betrayal
A player gets 2 extra dice (still to a maximum of 3)
when they describe how their character puts the other
main character in danger. The other main character
raises their despair by 1.
You cannot betray the other main character if this
would push their despair to 5 - a main character
can only be killed as a result of a roll made by that
character’s player, or as a consequence of helping
another character.
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Desperate rolls
◊ 6: The character achieves what they set out to do.
◊ 6: The character achieves what they set out to do,
◊ 4 - 5: They achieve a lesser version of what they
but the GM takes 1 point of dread.
◊ 4 - 5: They achieve what they set out to do, but
wanted, or they can try again to get what they want
via a tense roll.
the GM takes 2 points of dread. The player also
chooses to suffer a severe consequence or raise
their despair track by 1.
◊ 1 - 3: They don’t achieve what they wanted, but
hope isn’t lost. The GM takes a point of dread.
The main character can try a different approach
and make another uneasy roll, or they can push
on with their current course of action and make a
tense roll.
◊ 1 - 3: They don’t achieve what they set out to do,
suffer a severe consequence, increase their despair
track by 1, and the GM gains 2 points of dread.
Tense rolls
◊ 6: The character achieves what they set out to do.
◊ 4 - 5: They achieve a lesser version of what they
were attempting, suffer a consequence, and the
GM takes a point of dread. The main character
can either stop there, or they can push on with a
desperate roll if it makes sense in the fiction.
◊ 1 - 3: They don’t achieve what they set out to
do. The player chooses to either suffer a severe
consequence (or the GM can opt to take 2 points
of dread instead), or they increase their despair
track by 1. As makes sense in the fiction, the main
character can try a different approach with another
tense roll, or they can continue pushing on with a
desperate roll.
21
H o w t o P l ay Q u i e t u s
r e s u lt s p e r t e n s i o n le v e l
scars
Each main character carries scars - painful memories
from the past - that they use to help them overcome
the horror. Generally, players will only describe what
their characters say and do as they react to the world
around them. Scars are an exception; they give players
the power to narrate their characters’ background.
Scars both build a rich, collaborative story and give
the main characters a better shot at making it out
alive. The scars told let players introduce helpful side
characters or story elements they can use to gain bonus
dice. Story elements are things like weapons, keys, and
other objects that give a main character a better chance
of combatting the horror.
Take your time here. You and the GM should agree on
the memory and what element it introduces, and then
spend a few minutes playing out that scene together. If
the other player isn’t involved, they can suggest scene
details or play side characters in the flashback.
During the conversation, players can ask if something
is present in the fiction - exits and entrances, nearby
objects, other things they might leverage. The GM can
just agree and describe what it looks like, in which case
the thing exists in the fiction but has no mechanical
effect. Otherwise, the GM can suggest the player
introduce it as an element via a scar.
Alternatively, a player can suggest a side character or
element that they want to introduce to the GM. The
player and GM should then discuss and agree that the
element could potentially aid one or more future rolls
- a cell phone, car keys, a neighbour, or an improvised
weapon, for example. Once the player and GM agree
on the side character or element, the player reveals a
scar through a flashback.
Revealing Scars
The player must tell a melancholy story from their
character’s past to reveal a scar and introduce an
element or side character. The story must take the
form a flashback, where you describe events of the
past as they’re relevant to the present situation. Most
importantly, the flashback must be a time where
something went horribly wrong for the main character.
The player then raises their character’s anxiety by 2
because of the painful memories. Main characters only
raise their anxiety by 2 when revealing the scar - the
process of opening up old wounds is painful. Using the
resulting element does not raise anxiety.
Scars are the key to Quietus’ melancholic horror - revel
in these quiet, sad moments in a storm of desperation.
You might be tempted to quickly outline the flashback
in one or two sentences so the action can resume.
An element or side character can aid any roll where
the element could feasibly help. If the GM agrees, the
player describes how the element aids them in the
fiction, and adds a bonus die to their dice pool. GM
note: Yes, elements can be destroyed as a consequence
for failed rolls. However, make sure the player gets to
use the element at least once in a roll before you do.
The player paid the price by revealing a scar - they
should get the chance to benefit from that cost.
22
AN UNEASY ROLL
Oli: Okay, so to get a better look, you’ll have to
pull the net curtains right back. There’s a good
chance that whoever’s out there will see you,
hence the tense roll.
Donogh is playing Rachel, who’s hiding out in
a shuttered off-season ski-resort to escape from
her abusive boyfriend. Oli is GMing. Rachel
wakes up when she hears a car pulling up on the
gravel outside in the middle of the night. She’s
not expecting anyone else to be here; she knows
her friend Matt is running an errand in the
nearest town and won’t be back until tomorrow.
Donogh rolls and gets a 4. He’s going to get what
he wants, but with a consequence.
Oli: You pull back the curtains and get a good
look at the guy standing by the pickup. He’s
wearing grubby workman’s clothes - maybe a car
mechanic? But he’s also wearing a mask. It’s a
white, plain mask - like the kind unpainted mask
you’d get in an arts and crafts store to decorate.
Your phone rings as you’re looking down at him,
and it’s deafening in the dark. The man in the
white mask looks up to where the noise came
from. It’s mere seconds before he’ll see you.
What do you do?
Donogh: I want to get to the window and see
who it is.
Oli: Are you just walking up there, are you
sneaking up there?
Donogh: Hmmm... I’m not expecting anyone
at this time of night, so I want to see who it is
without being seen myself.
A tense roll
Oli: Okay, that sounds like a challenge, so it’s
time for a roll. Nothing particularly frightening
has happened so far, and it might just be Matt,
so let’s go for an Uneasy roll. Did you want to
bring in any extra dice?
Dan and Jenny are playing father and son,
Miles (Dan) and Alex (Jenny). The two are
trying to bond after a period of estrangement.
They’re meant to be staying at Miles’ boss’
cabin. However, they get lost and turn up at
the wrong place, finding it inhabited by its less
than friendly owner. Worse, Alex spots a corpse
between the loose slats of the wooden porch.
Ryan is GMing.
Donogh: I don’t think I need them yet...
Donogh rolls a 3.
Donogh: Okay, apparently I did need them.
Oli: Okay, so I get a point of dread, and you
don’t get what you want yet. You look out, and
it’s definitely not Matt’s car. It’s this rusty old
pickup truck...
Ryan: The guy’s just standing there, holding
a shotgun. He’s not pointing it at you, doesn’t
even have his finger on the trigger. But he looks
like the kind of guy that’d use it, and the body
under the porch suggests he already has. He
turns to you: ‘The fuck are you doing here?’
Donogh: A serial killer’s vehicle of choice.
Oli: Mmhmm. But you can’t see who’s there. Do
you want to get a lesser version of what you were
after, or do you push on for a tense roll?
Donogh: I don’t recognise the car, so I think
Rachel has a bit of a pit in her stomach. Let’s go
for that tense roll.
Dan: ‘Hey, look, we’ve obviously just come to the
wrong place...’
Ryan: ‘I’d say so, yeah.’ His finger moves to the
trigger.
23
Jenny: Miles hasn’t spotted the corpse yet,
right? I’m going to try to draw Miles’ attention
to it.
honestly, even if he’s awake when this guy gets
there, you’re still going to be stuck in the car.
Tyler: Right, yeah. Fuck. Okay, how badly are we
in this ditch?
Ryan: Without the shotgun-guy noticing? That’s
going to be a tense roll.
Katy: The last roll was a 1 on a tense roll, so
pretty badly. You’ll probably need to a truck to
get you out.
Jenny builds her dice pool. She’s not pushing
herself, and she can’t get Miles’ help as she’s
trying to get his attention, so she only rolls 1
die. It turns up a 4 - a mixed success.
Tyler: Or... I could just gun it and hope for the
best.
Ryan: You grab Miles’ sleeve and draw his
attention to the dead face staring up through
the slats. But the guy on the porch spots you.
He leers at you and raises the shotgun level with
your head. ‘Something caught your eye?’
Katy: You certainly could. That’ll definitely be a
desperate roll.
Tyler: I’m going to be giving it my absolute
all, since this guy’s bearing down on us, fully
scraping metal and screaming at the car to go does that count as pushing myself?
A desperate roll and
pushing yourself
Katy: Sounds good.
Tyler and Tomer are playing brothers Saul and
Isaac. They’re on a road trip across country
to help Saul get over his recent divorce.
Unfortunately, they attract the attention of a
serial murderer along the way. While trying to
get away from him, they crash into a ditch. Saul
is awake and injured, but Isaac is unconscious
from the crash. Katy is GMing.
Tyler rolls 2 dice. His highest die is a 4. He
either has to take a severe consequence, or raise
his despair by 1.
Tyler: I’m already at despair 4, so that’s a big
nope. Sigh. Let’s take the consequence.
Katy: Okay, so you manage to wrench the car out
of the ditch - it’s screaming and protesting all
the way. You see the stranger taking aim with
the shotgun through the rear view mirror and
hear the blast - it’s like thunder, it’s that close.
If you hadn’t moved, it would’ve ripped straight
through the back window into your head. As it
is, you’re flying up over the ditch, and it hits
your tire instead, which explodes. The wheel’s
metal screams as it scrapes against the desert
floor. You’re not going to be able to keep control
of it much longer. What do you do?
Katy: The stranger in the car behind pulls to a
stop. He’s not even pulling into the side of the
road, he’s just stopped, midway across the lanes,
the headlights of his car cutting through the
darkness. You feel like you’re in a spotlight. He
pauses there for a few seconds and then gets out
of the car, shotgun in hand and starts walking
towards you. What do you do?
Tomer: I’m unconscious. So, I guess, nothing?
Tyler: Do I have time to wake Isaac up before the
stranger gets to the car?
Tomer: Now’d be a good time to shake me
awake...
Katy: I’d say that would be a desperate roll. And
24
Getting help from a main
character
Tomer increases his anxiety by 1 for helping.
Angel rolls 2 dice. The highest comes up 2. Bad
news for Caesar, but also for Jesse as he gets
an equivalent consequence. Since they failed a
desperate roll, both Angel and Tomer increase
their despair by 1 - from 4 to 5. Since they have
5 despair each, both main characters will die.
Lauren is GMing. Tomer and Angel are playing
Caesar (Tomer) and Jesse (Angel). They’re on
the run following a botched robbery at Caesar’s
grandmother’s house in which their accomplice,
Laura, died. They take shelter in an abandoned
underground survivalist bunker, only to find it
haunted by bad memories. Unable to handle the
phantoms, Jesse leaves to try their luck with the
cops waiting outside. Caesar and Jesse have 4
despair each, so a final roll will decide how their
story ends.
Lauren: Jesse, you dash back to the hole that
leads out of the bunker. You can hear the
crack of gunfire - one after the other, after the
other. The first few miss, and you manage to
get to the hatch and grab Caesar’s hand. You’re
pulling against the phantoms below, and you’re
winning - and then the first bullet hits you.
Then another. Then another. Caesar, you see
the light go out of Jesse’s eyes, and his grasp
on you weakens... you’re dragged screaming off
of the ladder and down into the darkness of the
bunker.
Lauren: Jesse, you’re almost blinded by the light
as you pull yourself out of the escape hatch. In
addition to the morning sun shining off of the
snow, there’s blue and red flashing lights. The
police are all screaming at you, training guns at
you, "Hands on your head! Down on the ground!"
Getting help from a side
character
Angel rolled 1 on his last attempt to get away
from the phantoms. Caesar is trailing behind
Jesse, pursued by simulacra of his grandmother
and Laura.
Oli is GMing. Donogh is playing Rachel - and
things are going badly for her. She fled the ski
resort and is now being chased by a masked
killer. Previously, Donogh introduced a side
character via a scar - an old couple Rachel saw
in a log cabin on her way to the resort. Seeing
them together and happy in their later years
reminded Rachel of the awful gaslighting from
her ex-partner. Rachel’s despair is at 4, and her
hope is at 3.
Lauren: Caesar, you’re frantically climbing up
the ladder too. You can hear the cops shouting
and the blast of the sirens. You’re almost there,
when something grabs your legs - you look back
and it’s Laura and your grandmother, pulling
you down towards them.
Angel: I’m trying to kick them away while
pulling myself up those final few rungs.
Oli: Okay, so you’re sprinting up the hill towards
the cabin, but you hear an engine roar behind
you - sounds like the stranger gave up chasing
you on foot and went back for his car. You can
see the lights coming through the trees towards
you, cutting angel beams in the early morning
mist.
Lauren: They’re supernaturally strong and your
grip is slipping. It’s going to be a desperate roll...
Angel: I’ve only got one die. I start screaming for
Jesse to help me.
Tomer: Yeah. This is a horrible idea, but I’m
going to dash away from the cops so I can help
pull Caesar up. I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?
25
Donogh: Shit. I need to get into the house and
away from him. I’m going to rush up to the door.
I start hammering on it, crying out for help.
there’s a crack. Sounds like thunder. Most of the
old man’s face isn’t there any more, it’s just a
pulpy, bloody mess, like hammered steak. After
a second he collapses to the floor. You see the
stranger behind him, smoking rifle in hand.
Oli: Right, you’re on foot and badly injured,
and you’re being pursued by a car - that sounds
pretty desperate. Though, I’d say getting into the
house would raise your hope by 1 as long as you
don’t roll a one to three...
A betrayal
Paul and Will are playing Alan and Kit. Alan is a
security guard at a condemned industrial estate
on the edge of London, and Kit is a homeless kid
squatting there. They’ve been brought together
by the murderous ghosts that haunt the estate,
who are being raised en masse by the prospect
of its destruction. Alan is taking shelter in his
cabin, and Kit is stuck outside. The ghosts are
stalking the estate looking for them both. Oli is
GMing.
Donogh: Me too. Can I get an extra die by
involving the old man I saw in the cabin earlier?
Oli: Sure, although that’s unlikely to end well for
him...
Donogh: Desperate times...
Donogh rolls 2 dice. His highest die is a 5 - a
mitigated success; he’ll get what he wants, but
there’ll be consequences for Rachel, and worse
for the old man.
Will: What chance have I got if I just fucking run
for it, could I make it to the gates?
Oli: There’s no way of you getting across without
them seeing you. It’s going to be a desperate roll.
Oli: Okay, so you’re hammering on the door, and
you hear the car get closer and closer. A light
goes on upstairs...
Paul: And Alan’s stuck in the cabin, so I can’t
help. Sorry.
Donogh: I start screaming and waving, trying to
get their attention.
Will: And my anxiety is already at 10, so I can’t
push myself any further. Shit. Could I distract
the ghosts in some way?
Oli: You see the old man at the window, and
then he leaves. You hear him coming down the
stairs right as you see the stranger’s car pull
into view. The door unbolts and opens. The car
stops, and the stranger gets out with his rifle.
The old man opens the door, and is grousing at
you, "Don’t you know what time this is? What
the hell are you doing hammering on my door at
this hour?"
Oli: You could, and if you screw Alan over at the
same time, you’d get a couple of bonus dice for
it...
Paul: Dude.
Will: Yeah, that sounds good.
Donogh: I ignore him and just push past.
Paul: DUDE.
Oli: Okay, raise your hope by 1. However, as
you push past, the old man turns to follow you,
screaming at you to get out of his house. The
Will: I pick up an abandoned Coke can that’s
rattling about on the floor, fill it with a couple
of stones so that it’ll travel in the wind, and
throw it so that it bounces off against the cabin’s
window.
26
Oli: The can flies through the air and lands
against the window with a dull "thunk"; it’s not
loud, but the estate was otherwise deadly quiet.
Slowly, one at a time, each of the ghosts cranes
its neck around to see Alan’s terrified face
looking out. Will, you can roll 3 dice as Kit takes
his chance and sprints away...
the story, you’re going to have to reveal a scar.
Tell me a sad story about a rock, somehow something like you’re trying to hit Brother
Joshua with.
Kate: Oh, God, how can there be a sad story
about a rock? Wait, I’ve got it, what sort of
animals would there be around here?
Revealing a scar
Ferrel: It’s the desert, so coyotes maybe?
Kate is playing Dharma, a new age therapist.
Dharma recently recovered from a mystery
illness that had her incapacitated with pain for
almost a decade, and stole her twenties and early
thirties from her. Her greatest fear is becoming
ill again. She’s started a healing retreat deep in
the desert and is trying to put her past behind
her. However, her sudden recovery attracts the
attention of a terminally ill cult leader who’s
convinced that a transfusion of Dharma’s blood
is the only thing that can save him. He intends
to extract it from her violently. Ferrel is GMing.
Kate: Okay, so a couple of years ago, when
I was in constant pain but nobody would
diagnose me with anything, I was driving
back this way from the doctor. I was furious
and sad, and driving too fast, and not paying
attention. Then I look up and see a coyote
in the road in front of me. I haven’t got time
to stop. There’s this thump as I hit it, and
another as it goes under my back wheels.
Ferrel: What did you do?
Kate: I screeched the car to a halt, kind of in
shock. I waited there a few minutes getting my
breath back. Then I heard the whimpering. I
got out and looked back where the coyote was
lying. Its back legs and part of its spine were
crushed. It was miles to the next town, who
even knows if it had a vet anyway. I picked up
a rocked and caved its head in. It took longer
than I thought. I cried the whole time and got
back in my car covered in blood. That was the
first time I ever killed something.
Ferrel: Brother Joshua has his followers pin you
down to the massage table. He calmly approaches
you with the filthiest syringe you’ve ever seen,
which is attached to a length of rubber hosing.
He then taps the air out of it like he knows what
he’s doing, but it’s just stuff he’s seen from TV you can tell he doesn’t have any actual medical
training. Even if he doesn’t exsanguinate you as
he’s planning, that needle and his lack of skill is
going to fuck you up...
Kate: Shit, I need a weapon. Is there a rock
nearby?
‘
Ferrel: Why would there be a rock in the therapy
room?
Kate: Okay, not a rock, but like... oh, what about
a salt lamp? Those things are heavy.
Ferrel: I think there’s a good chance they’ve got
one there. But if you want to introduce one into
27
Sarah & Aura
AS FAR BACK AS SARAH’S MEMORY STRETCHED, SHE REMEMBERED HIDING HERE.
She didn’t remember much of her childhood - childhood amnesia, the doctors assured her, was
pretty common and nothing to worry about - but what she did remember was this wardrobe:
cramped, dark, and smelling like a thrift store. But safe, like a womb with fake fur coats.
She’d hidden here while playing games like hide and seek and forty-forty - and sardines when she
got older for the thrill of crushing up next to someone else.
She’d hidden here when her parents argued. The fighting had gone on for as long as she could
remember, and often. She supposed forever. When she couldn’t listen to her parents argue any
longer - about how her father didn’t agree with her mother’s religion, about how they were raising
Sarah, about her mother’s annoying sneezing, any excuse - she would wrap one of the fur coats
around her. The noise would stop, and she’d be smothered by the thrift store smell.
She recalled hiding in here when she brought Aura home for Thanksgiving. They could have made
out anywhere, but the cupboard seemed right. Sardines again.
Sarah tried not to wonder if Aura was still alive. She hadn’t heard her in a while. She’d heard Aura
running and screaming, and then just screaming, and then Sarah wrapped the coat around herself
when she couldn’t cope any longer. The smell and the silence took her.
She couldn’t hear the cupboard door open, but she felt the cold rush of air and the invading light.
Her mother pulled the coat gently off of her.
‘You need to find a new hiding place, sweetheart, we know everywhere you go.’
Her mother’s white robe was spattered red. The rest of the congregation filtered into the room, all
dressed identically, except for the natural variation in blood spatter. Even with the coat gone, Sarah
couldn’t hear Aura any more.
Safety Tools
I n t ro d u c t i o n to s a f e t y to o l s
- we still live by the basic societal safety standard that
the actor will not actually hurt you, no matter what the
waiver you sign beforehand says.
Why do we need safety tools?
You may be wondering why we need safety tools. This
is, after all, a horror game. Should horror really be safe?
The quick answer is: yes. This is a game, and it can
be a scary and emotionally manipulative game - but
it’s still a game. It shouldn’t be a genuinely traumatic
experience for anyone playing.
Safety means everyone can play
It goes without saying, but everyone comes to a game
with different life experiences. What may be nothing to
you may be extremely offensive or even triggering for
someone else in your game.
Safety makes fear fun
Most people would prefer not to discuss the things
they find uncomfortable in detail - even talking about
things in the context of ‘don’t do it’ can be upsetting.
Safety tools make this conversation easier, as players
can articulate their boundaries before and during the
game. Which also means...
Think of other forms of scary entertainment. You go
into a horror movie expecting to be scared, terrified
even - but you don’t want to come out of it with PTSD.
That’d be ridiculous, nobody would watch horror
movies any more. Rollercoasters are fun precisely
because you know they’re safe. You wouldn’t get on
a rollercoaster without a safety harness. With the
harness, it becomes fun, while still being scary. You get
to experience the terror without dying.
Safety means you can push further
Safety tools let you push even harder at the core themes
of horror and tragedy. Driving fast is fun because you
know you have breaks. For example, playing with the
X-card (which is explained more below) gives you
breaks.
Even at the most extreme, seemingly unsafe fear-based
entertainment - like extreme haunted houses where
people queue up around the block to have an actor
lock their heads in cages and dunk them in fake blood
30
The GM can absolutely X-card a player, players can
X-card each other, and everyone can X-card the GM.
And while the GM isn’t in charge of safety tools, it’s
good practice to remind the the players that they can
use them.
Of course, all players should respect any boundaries
established before and during play. If someone says
they’d rather not play with graphic violence, don’t use
safety tools (like the X-card) to push violence into a
place that could cause them discomfort.
If you’re about to describe something particularliy
gruesome, tell the players you’re about to do so and
remind them they can X-card the content at any point.
Are the authors of this game just SJW
snowflakes?
Everyone is responsible for safe play
The GM is responsible for briefing everyone on safety
tools before starting the game, but that doesn’t mean
that they’re in charge of them.
If you’re asking that question, perhaps this isn’t a game
for you. Maybe put the book back on the shelf and go
pick something up from the Lamentations of the Flame
Princess section instead.
M i n i m u m S u g g e s t e d S a f e t y To o l s
CATS
Aim
Before playing Quietus, or even introducing the rules,
the table must have a conversation to set everyone’s
expectations. Sessions where players share a mutual
understanding of the game tend to run more smoothly.
This game uses Patrick O’Reilly’s CATS process
(Content, Aim, Tone and Subject Matter) to quickly
and easily set expectations. The GM will present the
following four essential topics:
Explain what you’re all trying to accomplish together.
You’re here to tell a specific type of story, set usually in
the modern world. Hope and Despair provide a sort
of win and lose condition, but they’re mostly there to
pace the story. As long as we create a scary, melancholy
tale, everyone wins.
Tone
Have a quick conversation about the game’s tone.
Quietus’ tone is key: it’s a game of melancholy horror.
If you ever move away from those two subjects,
you’re getting away from what makes the game sing.
Crucially, Quietus is not a slasher game, despite sharing
some surface level features with slasher movies.
Concept
Start by pitching the game at a high level. For example,
‘Quietus is a game about tragic horror stories inspired
by movies like The Strangers, Oculus, and the recent
Netflix version of The Haunting of Hill House.’
31
Safety Tools
You can describe more graphically horrific or creepy
scenes because if you start going too far, anyone can
tap the X-card and it immediately stops. You don’t have
to second guess yourself.
Dread and sadness will constantly build, but with no
pressure release via a bodycount. It may help to list
some of the movies from the Filmography on page
90 as examples of the kind of story and tone Quietus
emulates.
Several of the quick-start scenarios in Chapter 5,
Thirteen Tragedies, explore race and racism - so they
can be implied, but not said at the table.
A player’s Lines and Veils should never be challenged
or questioned. If someone doesn’t want a subject to
feature in your game of Quietus, they don’t have to
justify why.
Subject Matter
Disclose all themes or ideas might be explored during
gameplay - especially the horrific or potentially
triggering aspects of the game. Explain that there
is likely to be some upsetting content and graphic
violence described during the session. That’s an
excellent time to segue to the next safety tool, Lines
and Veils.
Players can also use Lines and Veils to veto subjects
they simply find boring. If you ghosts aren’t your thing,
it’s perfectly acceptable to have a Line on ghosts.
The X-card
The X-card, created by John Stavropoulos, is a
tool that that allows anyone, including the GM, to
edit out content during play. Since Quietus is an
improvisational game, you won’t know what will
happen till it happens, so it’s possible the game might
go in a direction that people don’t want. The X-card
lets players fix problems as they arise.
Lines and veils
Lines and Veils is a safety tool that establishes content
boundaries both at the start of the session and during
the game. It first appeared in the roleplaying game Sex
& Sorcery by Ron Edwards.
◊
A Line is a subject that a player absolutely does not
want to be discussed or featured in the game at all.
◊
A Veil is a subject that a player is willing to see in
the game as long as it is not described graphically.
Draw an X on an index card in the centre of the table,
or download a Quietus X-card at quietus.co.uk. If
anyone wants to use the X-card, all they have to do
is touch it. At that point, rewind the fiction and start
before the offending content was introduced. If you’re
playing online through a video chat, players can make
an X with their arms, say ‘X’, or type ‘X-card’ in a group
chat.
At the start of the game, GM should declare their Lines
and Veils first so others are more comfortable about
disclosing their Lines and Veils. The GM should ask for
each other player’s Lines and Veils.
The X-card is useful for editing out content that makes
anyone feel uncomfortable in a way that isn’t fun.
We strongly suggest always having a Line on sexual
violence and violence against children, and also
strongly suggest a veil on slurs.
32
The X-card is there to handle those sort of situations,
but using it takes confidence, and confidence often
drains away when confronting something that makes
us feel uncomfortable or triggered. It can be difficult to
speak up in the moment.
If you, the GM, are not sure what was X-carded, take a
short break and ask the person to clarify what content
they would like edited out. If they don’t want to discuss
it, don’t push them to do so. Instead, start the whole
scene from the beginning.
If you, the GM, notice a player looking uncomfortable,
check in with them. Make sure they’re feeling okay
and are happy to continue, and ask if there is some
content to X-card, Line, or Veil. If you’re playing face
to face, take a short break and quietly check in with
the player - doing so takes the focus off of them and
lets everyone stretch their legs or get a refreshment. If
you’re playing online (via a hangout app like Roll20 or
Google Hangouts), take a break and drop the player
a private message. Once you’re back, X-card, Line, or
Veil anything you need to, and carry on with the game.
It’s possible the player won’t want to continue, and
that’s fine too - safety is more important than the game.
Remind people that the X-card is in play. If you’re
going to describe some particularly gruesome
violence, maybe preface it with, ‘I’m about to describe
something pretty gross now. So, I’d just like to remind
everyone that the X-card is on the table and can be
used at any time.’
Players can also use the X-card to edit out content that
doesn’t fit the game’s mood or tone, or that they just
aren’t interested in exploring. Maintaining the game’s
mood is a crucial part of a good Quietus session.
Open Door Policy
One of the simplest and most effective safety tools
is the Open Door Policy - simply let people leave if
they’re not having fun. Nobody - including the GM
- is obligated to see the game through to the end. If
you’re finding a horror movie too scary, too violent,
distasteful, or just not for you, you’d turn it off. The
same applies here. If you’re the person who brought
Quietus to the table, especially if you’re the GM,
remind everyone that the door is always open at the
start of the game, and that anyone may leave the game
for any reason.
Checking in
In roleplaying games, as in life in general, consent
isn’t a one-time decision - it’s a process, and it can
be changed or revoked at any time. Yes, the players
agreed to play Quietus, but they’re not obligated to see
it through to the end. Yes, you have content in Lines
and Veils, but it’s not a static or exhaustive list. People’s
comfort levels can change during gameplay.
33
Safety Tools
Quietus is about tragic horror, so some level of tension
and unease is part of the game. However, if that tension
becomes a problem, anyone can touch the X-card.
They don’t have to explain why they used the X-card
(although they may do so if they would like).
Daniel
SOME OF THE TIME - MORE AND MORE, AS IT WENT ON - DANIEL JUST FELT OLD.
But when he was feeling himself, he told himself that he was, in fact, old school. Everyone in the
office was a couple of decades younger than him - the consequence of staying in his last job for way
too long despite it going nowhere, because he was going to be an actor. But that went nowhere too.
He was hot enough for it to have worked, but the roles just weren’t there for Asian men, he was told.
A couple of soap opera episodes was the highlight, and he didn’t consider it much of one.
The only thing that made him feel young now was fucking, and he was still hot enough for that. The
kids in his office were all on Tinder, but Daniel still had a book of numbers, and not even a list on a
cell, an actual, honest to goodness, distressed leather-bound Moleskine. Classic, old school. He’d flick
through it, pick a number, and be a star for the night again.
Last week, he’d flicked through and noticed a name and a number he didn’t recognise. He couldn’t be
expected to remember everyone. He figured he’d see if he could jog his memory. He dialed, but when
they answered, it was just this noise - he couldn’t make it out; machinery maybe, metal screaming
against metal, or like pigs squealing? Some Nine Inch Nails sounding shit. He hung up, tried another
number.
Yesterday, there was another name he didn’t know. Another number. He dialed. Metal on metal,
animal sounds. And a voice, one he’d never heard before. Pleading for help. Asking for him, by name.
He hung up. Didn’t dial another number.
Today, the book is full of names and numbers he doesn’t know. They spill out, written on his walls,
painted in still wet white paint on his 4k TV. Carved in his left forearm.
C h a r ac t er s , Hor ror s & T r agedi e s
C h a r a c t e r & S c e n a r i o C r e at i o n
Once you’ve gone through the safety and rules briefing,
it’s time for you to guide the players through the
character and scenario creation. Each player creates
one character, which they do by answering a few
simple questions.
At the beginning of character creation, ask the players
the following questions about their characters.
For some of the questions, it’ll make sense for all the
players to answer the question together; for others
that are specifically about their character, it’ll make
sense for them to answer them alone. Players are
welcome to ask the other player and the GM for input,
or make suggestions to the other player. However, the
player always has final say over a question about their
character. If players can’t reach a consensus on joint
questions, the GM can make suggestions and finally act
as a tie breaker.
◊
You’re somewhere isolated. Where? Tell me about
the place.
◊
Why are you in such an isolated place?
◊
What’s your relationship to each other? *
◊
Why does it pain you to be here?
◊
What’s your name?
◊
What do you look like?
◊
Something went wrong yesterday. What was it?
◊
There should be someone else nearby, but there
isn’t. Where are they?
◊
What are you most afraid of?
* This question does not need to be answered in a one player game.
You can ask these questions one after the other, word
for word, but you don’t have to - they’ll probably flow
into each other and cross over naturally. Remember,
the game is a conversation, so treat it like one. Either
way, make sure you have answers to all of the questions
by the end of character creation.
First w
e were
born
then w
e ran sl
owly ou
t of lu
ck
24
emmy t
he grea
t
36
Ask follow up questions and dig deeper into the
characters. Follow-up questions give you both a
foundation to build the scenario and more juicy details
to exploit during the game. Encourage the players not
to rush through these questions - things go to hell
the minute you land in the opening scene, so this is
your only real chance to examine the main characters
without a gun, literal or figurative, to their head.
Probably spend around fifteen to thirty minutes of your
playtime on this section.
Once you’ve answered all these questions together,
the GM will come up with an idea for the horror and
an opening scene. Unless the GM has an idea they’re
particularly excited about, now is a good time to take
a five minute break to allow the GM to come up with
something. Keep the horror’s identity and description a
secret from the players at the beginning of the game to
enhance the tension. The reveal should happen when
their characters discover what or who is pursuing them.
c r e at i n g t h e h o r ro r
One of the few things in Quietus that is exclusively the
GM’s responsibility is creating the horror. The horror,
wherever possible, should come as a surprise to both
the characters and the players. The unknown makes
every decision uneasy, and making the players and
characters uneasy or even outright scared (within the
boundaries of the safety tools we discuss on page 30) is
part of the game.
Think The Ritual, True Detective, Resolution. If the
game takes place in the dilapidated family home, the
players are signalling that they want to bring in some
aspect of their past. Think The Haunting of Hill House,
Oculus, and the scenario Testament on page 86.
Use everything the players give you to build your
horror, both at character creation and during play. If
the character is a ruthless business man who’s just laid
off a bunch of staff, perhaps an aggrieved employee
targets them - though, in my experience, ruthless
businessmen usually are the horror.
However, you’re not going in completely blind.
Everything the players came up with during character
creation will point you towards the sort of horrific
content they want to see in the fiction. Build on that,
and think of the sort of villain that would turn up in
the movie version of your game.
There’s nothing wrong with going as simple as possible.
More or less every location can support a motiveless
killer a la Rutger Hauer’s character in The Hitcher. Put
a creepy mask on them to make them extra scary, and
you’ve got The Strangers.
If the players want to be in some isolated woodland
trail, that brings to mind rural serial killers, backwoods
cults, and primeval forces that existed before humans.
37
Characters, Horrors & Tragedies
These questions are very much a part of play. If a game
of Quietus is a movie, these questions are the opening
act. They establish the movie’s premise, who the main
characters are, what their relationship is to each other,
and their current situation.
Using the scenarios for inspiration
Then there’s the hospital itself, and what’s scary
about that is the idea that places in and of themselves
have power and can influence the people around
them. There’s several scary elements here: firstly,
it’s something outside the belief system of science
and most religions. So it’s an alien and therefore
discomforting idea, particularly as the hospital has
a human level of intelligence, and we like to think of
ourselves as the smartest things on the planet. Also, if
the hospital can influence the doctors’ thoughts, what’s
to stop it influencing our thoughts too? The loss of
agency and the idea that our thoughts may not be our
own is part of what makes the psychological abuse of
gaslighting - where someone tries to convince you that
you’re going mad - so terrifying. We tie a lot of our
sense of self to our inner lives - I think, therefore I am
- and if we lose that, who are we?
If you’re stuck for ideas, there are a couple of resources
in this book that can help. First of all, have a skim of
the scenarios included in Thirteen Tragedies on page
62. These are full scenarios that include the location,
characters, backstory ideas, and importantly here:
horrors. You can pick and choose what you want from
the scenarios to use them how you will.
If there’s a horror in one of the scenarios that speaks
to you, or even better freaks you out, you can steal it
wholesale and put it into your new scenario. You might
need to modify the horror to make it fit neatly into
your scenario. For example, the horror in Primum Non
Nocere on page 82 is a trio of murderous doctors and
the hospital’s sapient and malevolent force that spurs
them on.
If the players want to set the game in a hospital, you
can just pluck the horror from Primum Non Nocere
and use it. If not, let’s take a look at why that particular
horror is scary. There are really two horrors here, and
an underlying theme that adds to the discomfort.
Firstly, we have the doctors: they’re people who are
meant to help us - authority figures whose literal
job it is to heal us. So anyone in a similar position
of authority and presumed trust could be your
villain here: teachers, priests or nuns, police officers,
counsellors at a summer camp. In short, anyone who
has power in a situation where you’re vulnerable.
As for the underlying theme, hospitals are
fundamentally scary places, because you’re never there
when things are going well. So, you can translate this
to other places where the very fact you’re there means
that something’s gone wrong: prison, a strict boarding
school, on the run in your car after a robbery gone
sour.
You can take any or all of these elements and
incorporate them into a scenario completely different
from Primum Non Nocere while incorporating some
of its themes. In fact, you can do the same with each of
the scenarios in that chapter.
38
If either the players or the GM need a little help
coming up with ideas for their characters’ backstory
or the horror, you can use the tables below to generate
some quick inspiration. Roll two dice and compare the
total to the tables below.
Player inspiration tables
These tables are helpful when coming up with main
characters and scenarios at the start of the game. The
first table suggests something that may have been
tragically lost, the second the reason why. Use either or
both as needed.
What was lost
How it was lost
2. Your parents
2. Neglect
3. Your child
3. Addiction
4. Your sibling
4. An accident
5. Your body
5. A terrible choice
6. Your mind
6. A sudden disappearance
7. Your home
7. A betrayal
8. Your career
8. A tragic misunderstanding
9. Your childhood
9. A string of bad luck
10. Your love
10. An illness
11. Your dreams
11. A breakdown
12. Roll twice, rerolling further 12s, and combine the
answers
12. Roll twice, ignoring further 12s, and combine the
answers
39
Characters, Horrors & Tragedies
Ra n d o m t r a g e d i e s
GM inspiration tables
The horror
The GM can use these tables to provide some starting
point for the horror and what it wants. If you’re using
the second table, the horror’s primary motivation
should always be to kill the main characters.
2. Murderous strangers
3. A perverse cult
4. A sinister object
5. A family curse
Working the tables together
6. Something old, terrible, and unknowable
Here are some example rolls using movies from our
filmography (page 90) to illustrate how you could the
random results together.
7. Possessing demons
8. A fragile barrier between this world and another
9. Creatures you pretend not to believe in
Don’t Look Now: The players roll a three followed
by a four: The main characters’ child was lost in an
accident. This implies not only a dead child, but that
the characters were the child’s parents.
10. A character from an old story given life
11. A restless and unforgiving spirit
12. Roll twice, ignoring further 12s, and combine the
answers
Martyrs: The players roll a nine, and the GM rolls a
three: The main characters’ childhood was lost to a
perverse cult. Aside from the trials endured by the
characters, which can come up in scar scenes, this also
implies that the characters have known each other
since childhood.
Nina Forever: The GM rolls an 11 followed by an
eight: A restless and unforgiving spirit has become
infatuated the main characters. This implies that
the the unforgiving spirit is obsessed with one or
both of the characters, and each option has different
implications. If they’re obsessed with one of the
characters, they could be trying to murder and usurp
the other; if they’re obsessed with both characters, then
they’re otherwise trying to intrude in the characters’
relationship, and things are likely to get even more
complicated.
What it wants
2. Has taken something precious from you
3. Adopted you as its own
4. Left you the blame for its crimes
5. Blames you for a past wrongdoing
6. Wants something from you that you could never
willingly give
7. Spared your life for a promise
8. Is infatuated with you
9. Is going to kill you tonight, for fun
10. Has been haunting you since birth
11. Is to blame for everything bad in your life
40
12. Roll twice, ignoring further 12s, and combine the
answers
character & scenario
creation
Sabine: I mean we could just be hiking for fun,
or it could be some sort of challenge? Maybe
someone said we couldn’t do it, like you’re too
old, too young, too female, you’re too whatever.
Oli, Paul, and Sabine are sitting down for a
Quietus session, and are just getting onto
character and scenario creation questions.
Oli: So you’re doing it to prove a point? Paul, any
thoughts you want to add to that?
Oli: Okay, let’s do some character creation.
Characters are just generated through a series of
questions. Some of them you’ll answer together,
and you can discuss those. Some of them you’ll
answer individually, particularly if it’s about
your character and your character alone, but feel
free to get input from everybody else. So, the first
question is: ‘You’re somewhere isolated. Where?
Tell me about the place.’
Paul: Yeah, I don’t know how you’d feel about
this, Sabine. But I was thinking about whether
our characters were a couple in some way?
Maybe like a shared anniversary present or
something?
Sabine: So, maybe we’re hiking or something?
Oli: Yeah, that’s great. Well, the questions are
obviously in the right order because the next
question is: ‘What is your relationship to each
other?’. So how long have your characters been
together, before things started to go awry?
Sabine: Or maybe we’re doing it to get back
together or grow closer after we were drifting
apart?
Paul: Yeah, I love that.
Oli: Hiking’s good. Where are you hiking?
Paul: I quite like the idea of a forest, like a
mountainous forest?
Sabine: Are we definitely a romantic couple?
Because I was thinking a family, like father and
son or something like that? I don’t know if that
works for Paul because you said ‘couple’.
Oli: Okay, cool. Are we in Europe, are we in
America?
Paul: Yeah... father-son... I quite like siblings.
Paul: I saw this film a couple of weeks ago called
The Ritual, where a group of people go off hiking,
I think somewhere in Scandinavia, through this
massive forest.
Oli: Okay, yeah, so you’re siblings and
something’s brought you back together recently
after you’d drifted apart; the next question is:
‘Why does being here pain you?’ and something
that’s guaranteed to bring families back together,
however briefly, is a death in the family. Does
that sound okay?
Sabine: Cool.
Oli: Yeah, I’m up for that. That’s exactly what
came to mind when you said hiking. Okay, so
we’ve already answered the next question, which
is: ‘Why are you in such an isolated place?’. But
do you want to elaborate on it a bit? Why have
you come hiking, why this particular place?
Sabine: Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. Can
we say it’s our father who’s died, or does anyone
have any issues with that?
Paul: No, I’m okay with that.
41
Oli: Okay, so your Dad’s died. His death has
brought you back together, and you’ve decided to
go off on this hiking trip.
Sabine: I’ve just chosen the name Martin, which
leaves it kind of open, because you can be called
Martin just about anywhere. Shall we be from
the UK?
Paul: So how about if our Dad was a really avid
hiker, like this was his favourite route through
this forest? And we’re kind of doing it as almost
a tribute to him.
Paul: Sounds good. I’m going to be ‘Sarah’.
Oli: Paul, tell me more about Sarah, what’s her
deal?
Sabine: Yes, yes, I like that.
Paul: Sarah was always kind of the black sheep
of the family. I imagine she was the youngest.
Her father was a very practical man, and she
sort of rebelled against him. Maybe she went
away to art college, and refused to get, like,
a proper job. All of her life he’s, like, really
disapproved of all of her life choices.
Oli: Okay, cool, but I want to go back to the ‘to
prove a point’ thing. So maybe you’ve never done
this before because your Dad didn’t think that
you could? Or there was one of you in particular
that he didn’t think was tough enough to go
through with it?
Sabine: Yeah, maybe like even the other sibling
thinks secretly that, ‘You’re an urban lawyer,
is this too hard for you.’ And the other guy was
like, ‘No, no, I can do it for Dad, I’ve won all
these cases, I’m not afraid of anything.’
Oli: And Sabine, what about Martin?
Sabine: I guess Martin is the eldest son, and he
has always tried to impress his father by being
very successful. I think he’s a lawyer in the city,
and he’s got everything pretty much together.
But he’s always tried to impress his father, and a
lot of times he’s tried too hard.
Oli: Okay, cool. So the next question is: ‘What
is your name, and what do you look like?’. So
that’s one for you each.
Oli: Okay, next question is: ‘Something went
wrong yesterday, what was it?’
Paul: So Sabine, where are we going to be from?
42
Paul: I like maybe our tent got ruined... or
maybe it’s something more obvious, maybe we
got lost.
Paul: I like the idea that he was meant to meet
us at the start of the hike and just never turned
up?
Sabine: Yeah I like the getting lost, I think
maybe one of our power packs that we use for a
GPS tracker just died, and now we’re standing
there in the middle of the valley with no idea
where to go.
Oli: Or did he go off on his own for some reason,
and you had to follow him, and that’s why you
got lost?
Paul: I like that. But what if we all started the
hike together, we got lost last night, and when
we woke up in the morning he just wasn’t there?
Tent and everything gone?
Oli: Yeah, the two of you standing there trying
to figure out how to hike with an actual map. Do
you even have a compass?
Sabine: Yeah, that’s cool. That’s very cool.
Sabine: Maybe a cell phone? But if we don’t have
any power packs, then that’s probably no good
either?
Oli: Sabine, you mentioned being the eldest. Are
there other siblings?
Oli: Okay! And the last question is for both of
you individually, and you can answer it either
in character or as yourself, depending on how
comfortable you feel: ‘What are you most afraid
of?’
Paul: Yeah, I like the idea that we’ve got another
sibling, who for some reason is not on this trip.
Sabine: For Martin, I think it’s being seen as a
failure.
Oli: Ah, well, the next question coming up is:
‘There should be someone else nearby, but there
isn’t. Where are they?’. So that plays into that
quite nicely.
Oli: And Paul, what about Sarah?
Paul: Um... being alone.
43
a le x & J ay
WHATEVER ELSE HAD GONE WRONG IN HIS LIFE, WHOEVER HAD ABANDONED HIM
- and there was plenty of both - Alex’s shadow had always been there. He didn’t see it as much now
as he did when he was back in the system, or when he was on the streets, but he always knew it was
just behind him, waiting. As a kid, he’d been terrified of it. ‘He’s scared of his own shadow,’ the social
workers would say. They would assume his foster family was beating him; it was usually a pretty safe
bet, anyway.
When he was five years old, Alex’s shadow had told him its name. That was just after it smashed his
foster father’s head onto the bare concrete floor of the garage where he took Alex at night. His skull
had cracked on the fourth blow. It smelled like a butcher’s shop afterwards. ‘It’s okay,’ whispered
Alex’s shadow in his ear, ‘I’m here. I’m always here. I’ll always look after you. It’s always me and you
together.’ And then it had told Alex its name.
Alex was as close to composure as he came when he met Jay in the corner shop when they both were
out late at night to buy milk. Alex had a job - minimum wage with terrible shifts, but a job - and had
managed to avoid alienating the friends he’d made in the past couple of years enough to sofa surf
reliably. His shadow hadn’t whispered to him in over a year.
Jay was good looking, but not so much that Alex felt ugly or jealous around him. Jay was kind, and
his smile was so genuine and warm it burnt a little. Alex asked him out. Jay said yes, and the warmth
of his smile spread over Alex’s whole body.
‘No,’ whispered the shadow.
‘Please,’ begged Alex quietly.
‘No. Just us. Always just us,’ it replied.
How to Run Quietus
t h e G M’ s r e s p o n s i b i li t i e s
The GM, it’s fair to say, has more responsibilities than
the players. The players’ responsibility is to describe the
actions of their characters, act out their dialogue, and
roll dice - always remembering to play their character
as if they were a real person. The GM has to manage
everything else. It sounds like a lot, but it really breaks
down to the following six points:
Describe the fiction
◊ Abide by the agendas and principles
So, think about the main characters in the scene and
the world they inhabit. Imagine what’s happening
right now, and describe it like you’re recounting a
great movie to a friend. You don’t need to describe
everything in intricate detail - stick to what’s relevant,
and what’s exciting. Think about how the scene looks,
what the characters can see, what they can hear, what
they can smell.
Describing the fiction is the basis of all GMing. You
describe everything that’s happening in the fiction,
except for the main characters’ actions. If you don’t
describe it, it effectively doesn’t exist in the fictional
world.
◊ Describe the fiction
◊ Play the horror and the side characters
◊ Ask questions and use the answers
◊ Answer the players’ questions honestly
◊ Judge when rolls are needed
Abide by the agendas and principles
Starting on page 53, this chapter details the agendas
and principles in Quietus. The agenda is what you’re
trying to achieve, the principles are how you achieve
it. They might seem like advice rather than rules,
but they’re just as important as rolling the dice or
increasing a score.
Don’t play ‘gotcha’. Remember, you’re describing it
like a movie scene, so it’s okay to describe things to
the players that their main characters don’t notice, if
it serves the agendas and principles. It’s the players’
responsibility to play their characters as if they’re
real people, so if you describe something that their
character wouldn’t be aware of, they can’t react to it.
46
Questions about the main characters
When you’re playing the side characters, play them
like real people. The side characters are probably going
to die, but they don’t know that (and they certainly
don’t want that). Give each side character a name and
a simple drive, and portray their actions as if they were
real people.
If you want to know something about a main character,
ask their player. Don’t arbitrarily declare facts about the
main characters: they’re the only part of the game that
isn’t your domain. It’s fine to make suggestions, but the
players get final say over their main character.
The horror is different. They may or may not actually
be a person, but they certainly don’t act like most
people you walk past in the street. For whatever reason
you’ve come up with, their motivation and desire is to
kill the main characters; everything else is secondary,
including their own sense of self preservation. Play
the horror more like a force of nature than a person,
forever rolling forward like the truck in Duel.
While you can’t declare facts about a main character,
you can (and should) ask leading questions to help you
describe the fiction and deliver on your agendas and
principles. ‘How long has it been since you slept?’ is
an open question, but it implies the main character is
low on sleep and will get the player thinking in those
terms. Asking a player ‘when was the last time you felt
pain like this?’ after their character has been stabbed
leaves them free to answer the question, but implies
that they have felt pain like this before.
Leading questions
Ask questions and use the answers
Just because you’re responsible for describing the
fiction, doesn’t mean you need to make up everything
yourself. Part of playing to find out what happens is
explicitly not knowing everything and being curious. If
you don’t know something, or you don’t have an idea,
ask the players and use what they say.
Ask the players for input at any point, on any subject,
to help you describe the fiction. ‘What kind of wildlife
do you think would be in this area?’, and ‘do you think
there would be cell reception up here?’ are examples of
questions that help inform the fiction. Unless it goes
against Quietus’ agendas and principles, you should
accept the answer. If something doesn’t quite fit with
the game’s tone, ask clarifying questions or reframe the
question until it does.
Painting the scene
You can also ask players questions that give input into a
scene’s mood and tension. These sorts of questions take
the form of asking players to contribute details from a
prompt. Example painting the scene questions could
include: ‘what about the man staring at you from the
driveway lets you know he is utterly insane?’ or ‘what
about the ruined building tells you that it used to be a
place of love?’
The most important question
The most important question is ‘what do you do?’. A
game of Quietus is a conversation - you get to describe
a lot as the GM, but you’re not here to monologue.
47
How to Run Quietus
Play the horror and the side characters
The point of your descriptions is to see how the
characters react. So, after you describe the results of
every dice roll, after you spend dread and introduce a
consequence, or whenever following the fiction puts a
new obstacle in front of the characters, ask the players,
‘what do you do?’
simple rule: say yes, or call for a roll. As per the rules
for rolling dice on page 18, the players shouldn’t roll
for trivial matters.
Take the present fiction into account when
determining if you need a roll and, if you do, the roll’s
tension level. If a character is trying to unlock a door
with no outside influences, that doesn’t warrant a roll
- but if a character is fumbling with a set of keys, while
the horror stalks towards them, that’s at least a tense
roll. If you’re having trouble deciding on the tension
level, imagine the movie version of the game in your
head. How loud are the violins or discordant synths on
the soundtrack right now? The louder and scratchier
those imaginary strings are, the higher the tension
level. Also, the tension levels use natural language does the situation seem uneasy, tense, or desperate to
you? If it’s none of the above, you probably shouldn’t
call for a roll.
Answer the players’ questions
honestly
Questions are a two way street. The players will likely
have questions for you too during the game. You can
expect questions that: help the players set up their
reactions (‘do I think I could make it to the car before
the killer catches me?’); give information about side
characters or the horror; or clarify and expand on what
you’ve already described (‘so it’s full of animal carcases
in here. What does it smell like?’)
Remember, you only have to answer within the realm
of what the characters could know. If they ask you
why the horror is trying to kill them, it’s perfectly
reasonable for you not to provide an explanation. Of
course, the player could also have their main character
ask the horror directly in the fiction. Though that may
not be sensible, and the horror may just shrug and say,
‘Why not?’ If the answer to a player’s question is ever a
‘maybe?’, then it’s probably time for a roll.
If a player feels the tension is too high or too low
- perhaps because they or the GM misunderstood
something in the fiction - the player and the GM can
negotiate the fiction to a different tension level.
This isn’t always a case of the player character ‘gaming’
to improve their character’s chance of surviving.
Players can suggest the tension level be raised if they
think it’s appropriate to the fiction - you’re playing to
tell a good story, not to make sure that your character
survives. The important thing is that no action is set in
the fiction until the dice are rolled.
Judge when rolls are needed
The GM judges when to move from the conversation
to rolling the dice, but take your cues on when to do
so from the players. If a player wants something, or
wants their character to achieve something, go by this
48
Safety briefing
Rules briefing
First, go through the CATS process (described in more
detail on page 31). Highlight that Quietus is a game of
tragic horror, and that there will likely be some graphic
violence, terrifying imagery, and emotional scenes
during scars.
Provide the players with a brief description of the rules.
Make sure you cover the following points:
◊ The scores: hope, despair, anxiety & dread
◊ Rolling dice
◊ Tension levels
Your CATS should cover the game’s tone: all the
players should embrace a combination of maudlin
and desperate. If everyone abides by the principle that
they should play their characters like real people, this
shouldn’t be a problem. Remind the players to keep
you on track if you start tonally drifting, too.
◊ Panicking
◊ Scars
Three act structure in Quietus
A session of Quietus follows the same three act
structure as the tragic horror movies that inpired it:
Segue into describing the X-card as detailed on page
32. Tie it into your CATS briefing by telling the players
that the X-card can be used to edit out content that
they don’t want to engage with for any reason: because
they find it too disturbing or triggering, or because it
doesn’t fit with Quietus’ melancholy horror.
◊ Act I, where we meet the main characters and
learn about their situation and relationship to each
other. Usually lasts about half an hour.
◊ Act II, where they face a problem and work against
it. This usually lasts about an hour, and about
midway through something will happen that
means there’s no going back for the characters either literally or metaphorically.
Finally, introduce the open door policy as detailed
on page 33. Remind the players that any player - the
GM included - can leave if the game becomes too
uncomfortable for them, or if they’re simply not
enjoying it. One to two hours is a long time to sit
through something that isn’t for you.
◊ Act III, where the action reaches a climax. The
main characters either resolve the problem or are
defeated by it. This usually lasts about half an hour.
These are the bare minimum safety tools for running
a game of Quietus. Feel free to use others if you would
like.
Quietus breaks down play into that same structure.
49
How to Run Quietus
A n ato m y o f a S e s s i o n
Act I: Character & scenario creation
Act II: Opening scene
The character and scenario creation process (detailed
on page 46) is very much a part of your play
experience. As soon as you sit down and start asking
the list of questions, you’re in your game of Quietus,
and you’re also in the first act of your story. Act one
should likewise cover what a movie would cover in the
opening act: who the characters are, their relationship
to each other, their situation, and where they are.
Act two is where you and the players will jump into
the conversation proper. You describe the scenes
surrounding the main characters, ask the players
questions, and react to their answers. You play any side
characters and the horror; the players portray their
characters like real people, push forward with rolls,
and reveal scars.
The opening scene should begin roughly at the end of
act one in a movie: when things start to go wrong. Leap
straight in with something off, something unsettling,
or something downright bad. The least risky tension
roll is Uneasy, and that’s both mechanically and
literally. Things should be, at best, uneasy.
Guide the players through the character and scenario
creation process. The rules on page 46 go into more
detail on this, but the short version is: get full and
interesting answers to all the listed questions, and ask
lots of other questions too..
Remember, you and the other players can X-card any
content that is triggering, boring, or just doesn’t fit the
game’s tone. Now is a great time to do so, as players
won’t be worried about ruining the game’s flow, and it
will encourage everyone to use it later.
Some example from past games of Quietus include:
◊ Two siblings on a hiking trip to honour their
recently deceased father find that their other
brother is missing from their camp.
◊ Two colleagues (one of who made an unsuccessful
By the end of act one, you should feel like you know
the characters well enough to have real interest in the
rest of their story; and if you don’t yet, keep asking
questions that build on the players’ existing answers
until you do. The end of act one a good time to a take
a short break. It gives everyone a chance to grab a
drink, and you time to create the horror - there’s more
information and advice on how to do that on page 37.
pass at the other the night before) arrive to set up a
team building event at an out of the way cabin, but
find it already unlocked with somebody moving
about upstairs.
◊ The boat that was meant to pick up a newly - and
unhappily - married couple from the tiny and
supposedly uninhabited island was due to pick
them up two hours ago... but never showed.
50
Act III: The climax
From there, keep on pushing. Remember and live by
the agendas and principles from page 53 - especially
"be relentless" (page 55). The Quietus mechanics don’t
allow the players’ scores to reduce, they can only get
higher (and often, worse). Reflect this constant build in
your session.
Once either the hope score or one or more main
characters’ despair score is at four, you’re in the final
couple of scenes. Start pressing even harder with the
horror’s attacks.
Nothing is safe at this climactic stage of the fiction. The
game is coming to a close, and somebody is probably
going to die - be it the main characters or the horror.
After your opening scene, let every following scene
flow from the fiction and the mechanics. Consider
everything that’s happened so far when deciding what
happens next - the nature and motivations of the
horror, the players’ actions and reactions so far, and the
story elements and side characters.
The game’s mechanics are tuned so that, as often as
possible, hope and at least one character’s despair
will both be at four at the same time. This pacing
brings everything down to one final, thrilling die roll.
Aim for this outcome (within the rules), using your
dread points to keep despair and hope neck-a-neck.
However, do remember that you can’t spend dread to
kill a character.
When deciding what happens next, also remember the
rules and the scores. Main characters cannot die until
their despair reaches five. They also can’t escape from
or defeat the horror until their hope reaches five.
Make any main character death a big moment in the
story. Remember, this is a tragedy, not a slasher movie.
Gore isn’t necessarily a bad thing - the ending of
Inside is horrifically bloody - but it can become cheap
or funny if it’s overused. Focus instead on the horror
of what’s happening, on the loss that the surviving
characters feel, on the tragedy of it all.
Push the players to make rolls during scenes. You
can only call for a roll when a player describes their
character doing something challenging or potentially
dangerous (see the rules on page 21). You can’t
arbitrarily ask for rolls just because you feel like it, so
it’s your job to constantly put them in situations where
they have to describe the sort of action that calls for a
roll - the constant, relentless horror is your tool to do
that.
Similarly, if the horror is a human or other living
creature, make its defeat feel like a qualified triumph.
The reality of killing a living being is horrific, bloody,
difficult, and painful, even if they were trying to kill
you. Don’t let anybody get away easy.
51
How to Run Quietus
Act II: The downward spiral
If the main characters escaped the horror
without defeating it
Act III: Epilogues
After the game’s climax concludes, finish with an
epilogue. For each of these conditions that is true, you
and the players will describe a short scene together as
highlighted below.
The players and the GM should each describe one
very short scene that shows how the horror is still at
large, and that in escaping without entirely defeating it,
others are doomed to repeat their fate.
If all the main characters died
If the main characters killed a living
horror
Describe some side characters - either ones previously
introduced during the game or invented exclusively for
this epilogue - discovering the aftermath of the horror’s
attack. The players should describe something personal
about their characters that lingers behind.
If the horror was a living, natural being, human, or
animal, ask the player of any surviving main characters
how they’re changed by becoming a killer themselves.
If the main characters defeated the horror
without killing it
If one of the main characters died and the
other survived
Ask the player of each surviving main character how
their life is affected by knowing the horror could still
be out there, albeit in a weakened or captive state. Then
narrate a short scene that hints at the horror’s future
return.
The player of the deceased character should narrate
a short scene that reminds the surviving character of
the dead character - this can either be in a flashback
with both of the characters, or after the fact. The player
of the surviving character should extend the scene by
describing how their character is changed by the loss,
and how they mourn.
Decompress
Quietus can be a tense and emotionally draining
experience, so take time at the end of your session to
talk it over, or just to talk about something that isn’t
horrific or sad. Once everyone is back down to Earth,
the session is over. Thank everyone for playing, and
from us, thank you for playing.
If all of the main characters survived
If there was only one main character, ask them to
describe how they’ve been traumatised by harrowing
events, and how that’s changed them some weeks or
months later.
You’re
If there were two main characters, have both players
answer that question about their character. Then ask
each of them to describe how their relationship to and
feelings about the other character have changed.
not rid
of me
Yeah, y
ou’re n
ot rid o
f me
I’ll ma
ke you
lick my
injurie
52
rid of m
e
PJ Har
vey
s
Your agenda sets out what you should be aiming
to achieve when playing Quietus. Whenever you’re
describing the scene, the killer’s actions, or speaking
as the side characters, always ask yourself if you’re
achieving the agenda. If you’re not, switch it up until
you are. Always work toward this four point agenda:
Fill the characters’ lives with tension,
melancholy, and horror
The three themes you should really drive home are
tension, melancholy, and horror. Think about how you
can bring in at least one of these three themes when
describing the world, playing side characters and the
horror, and asking questions of the players. The players
will instinctively follow your lead on tone, so reinforce
these three themes in everything you say to get them
playing along too.
◊ Make the world feel real, but terrifying
◊ Fill the characters lives with tension, melancholy,
and horror
◊ Play to find out what happens
◊ Terrify the players, but respect boundaries
Make the players’ situation terrifying - throw in
evidence of the horror’s past crimes, make the horror
relentless and merciless. Even before the horror shows
up, describe everything in the creepiest way possible.
Use all of your senses when describing scenes - the
close humidity that hits you as you enter the killer’s
lair, the basement in the picturesque house that stinks
like an abattoir, the feel of the knife against your skin,
the slow creaking above you that could be the house
settling or could be footsteps upstairs.
Make the world feel real, but terrifying
Make the world feel real. Portray the side characters
like real people. Throw in references to pop culture,
and describe the situation and the world around the
characters in your own terms. Quietus takes place in
our world - it’s not on a space station, or a forgotten
dungeon, or a haunted castle. Even scenarios outside
of many people’s usual experience - for example, an
Arctic research station - might feel too detached from
reality, and hence less scary.
Make every roll tense - have obvious and bad
consequences lined up for every failed roll. If the
players see that potential hurt is coming their way
every time they pick up the dice, it’ll be a moment of
trepidation and dread.
The horror is an invasion into this real world. They’re
here to kill the characters, and that’s a massive
upheaval of the status quo. Everywhere the horror
goes, leave chaos in their wake. Make them terrifying
and utterly relentless. Nothing is sacred to the horror,
no side character unkillable, no hope that they can’t
crush. Play the horror like a shark that’s smelled blood.
53
Players often forget they can introduce side characters
and elements by revealing a scar to get a bonus die,
so remind them before they roll; much of the game is
about these tragic backstories.
How to Run Quietus
Ag e n d a
Play to find out what happens
Terrify the players, but respect
boundaries
Play to find out if the characters can survive, what
they are prepared to do to survive, and to uncover
the sad truths of their past. Don’t pre-plan the story
before you play Quietus. The rules will fight you if you
try. Absolutely do not decide up front if the horror or
the players will die. The players’ choices and the dice
results will determine the outcome.
The characters in a game of Quietus will inevitably
be frightened - they’re being chased by someone or
something that wants to murder them. Your job as the
GM is to scare the players. Use horrific descriptions,
the horror’s relentlessness, and the uncertainty
inevitable in dice rolls to amp up the tension and fear
wherever possible.
You can have an idea for the horror prepared ahead,
but be open to changing your ideas based on character
creation - especially ‘what are you most afraid of ’.
That said, respect boundaries. Quietus is at heart
a game, and games should be fun. See page 30 for
advice on using safety tools to create a supportive
environment so everyone has fun.
p r i n c i p le s
The principles are:
Principles are in-the-moment guidelines to achieve
your agenda. Whenever you’re describing a scene or
reacting to the players’ actions, think in terms of these
principles and the fiction you’re telling.
◊ Leap straight in
◊ Be relentless
◊ Be a fan of the characters, but be merciless
◊ Begin and end with the fiction...
Check to see if your ideas line up with these principles,
and if they do, go with it. If they don’t - yet - consider
how these principles could shape and mould your idea
◊ ...but respect the rules
into one that suits Quietus.
◊ Embrace simple horrors
◊ Make rolls matter
Leap straight in
◊ Address the characters, not the players
There’s a maxim in screenwriting: arrive late, leave
early. Apply that to your games of Quietus. Don’t open
with an extended prologue of the characters going
about their normal day before the horror attacks. You
already covered that exposition and opening setup in
◊ Make side characters real
◊ Keep the horror’s motivation simple
54
Be a fan of the characters, but be
merciless
Start immediately with tense and unsettling fiction:
You’re awoken by someone knocking on your front
door at 3 in the morning. You have to brake as you’re
driving down a deserted trail because someone’s placed
a mannequin in the middle of the road. Immediately
throw the characters into the action, and guide the
players into making rolls to get the fiction moving.
This isn’t the story of the side characters that you play,
or even the story of the horror. This is the story of the
main characters. You and the players are all here to tell
their story. But. This is a horror game. Being a fan of
the characters doesn’t mean coddling them or giving
them an out. They’re in a terrible situation, and they’re
stuck there until they claw their way out. It’s your job
to push them to claw their way out.
Be relentless
Being a fan of the characters means keeping the story
focused on them. Use the content from character
creation and the elements introduced through scars
to make the fiction about their lives. Push for more
scars so you can learn more about the main characters.
Make it a story that could only happen for them.
Keep the pace up constantly. The tension should always
build, it should never decrease. Don’t allow for pauses
where the characters have downtime or a chance to
relax. Once the horror sets their sights on the main
characters - which as per the above principle, should
be more or less immediately - they don’t let up until the
main characters are dead or have absolutely escaped.
Embrace simple horrors
Horror has some of the most well known tropes of any
genre. The cabin in the woods. The masked killer. The
car that won’t start. Don’t be afraid of the tropes; use
the tropes to create fear. Go for what’s scary, even if it
might seem obvious.
The threat should always be present, even if only as an
overarching sense of dread and foreboding. Everything
should lead on from what’s gone before, and should
constantly be escalating in tension and violence.
For example, if the characters encounter the horror on
a road trip, the horror could initially follow them in
a car attempting to flag them down. However, things
start to take a turn when the horror attempts to run
them off the road, which turns into a chase, which
turns into a car crash, which turns into trying to escape
the car wreckage before the horror reaches them,
which turns into a desperate fight with the horror.
If you’re stuck for a description of the horror, a guy
with a knife and a bag over his head with loose
eyeholes torn in it will always be scary - because what
sort of person would wear a bag over their head? If a
player is hiding in a closet, you could spend dread to
place the body of one of the previous victims in there
with them. Draw on a century of scary movies, and be
brazen about it.
55
How to Run Quietus
character creation. Quietus is a short game, usually
running between an hour and two hours - make the
best use of that time.
The rules don’t overrule the fiction; they inform it.
Horror is full of false hope where it looks like the
protagonists have escaped or defeated the horror, only
to be drawn back in.
Begin and end with the fiction...
The fiction will tell you when to engage the rules, the
rules will tell what to do next in the fiction. Neither of
them works apart from the other.
Also, you’re the GM, and you’ve got narrative input
over most of the world and what happens in it. So until
the scores are at the right level, don’t narrate anything
that can’t be taken back. BUT - this doesn’t mean
go easy on the characters. You have to be merciless
and relentless, remember. If the dice come up badly,
characters can get shot, stabbed, strangled, and thrown
off roof tops - but until their despair is at five, they just
can’t die.
For example: If a character is attempting to jump from
a balcony to escape the horror, that should require a
desperate roll to see how that goes - and the possibility
of one hope for escaping the horror. If they roll a 6,
reward 1 hope, and then return to the fiction: they
land without hurting themselves and create distance
between them and the horror. If they roll a 4 or 5, they
land badly and break a leg, a serious consequence.
All future narration from both you and the player has
to factor in that broken leg; but don’t forget to award
that hope as well. If they roll a 1 - 3, the horror catches
them before they leap. Raise their despair by 1. They
can’t die if their despair is less than 5, so we return to
the fiction with the horror dragging them away from
the balcony and back into the house, kicking and
screaming. Ask the player what they do next. The rules
and the fiction will always bounce off each other.
Make rolls matter
Rolls are your primary way of pacing the game and
building tension. Whenever you ask for a roll, make
sure it’s clear what the player is trying to achieve, and
have clear consequences lined up should they fail. If
the consequences are clear before the roll, it won’t seem
like bullshit when they’re inflicted after a failed roll.
Also, don’t cheap out on the players if they roll well.
Players trust a GM that rewards success and inflicts
consequences fairly. It also makes every dice roll
matter, since the result carries real opportunity but also
real risk.
...but respect the rules
Telling good fiction is the point of the game, but the
rules give it structure. If you fudge the rules, the fiction
loses its integrity and will collapse. Being honest with
the despair, anxiety, and hope scores are crucial to
running a good game, as they inform how the fiction
plays out. A main character cannot die until their
despair is at five, and cannot escape or defeat the
horror until their hope is five.
56
For example, one of the main characters is wrestling
the killer’s hunting knife away from them. That sounds
pretty desperate, so it’s a desperate roll. However, if
they succeed, they should expect a point of hope - the
main character disarmed the killer and now has their
weapon.
Playing the side characters as real people with goals,
agendas, and lives beyond the story will help the
players care about them so they feel bad when they die
Yes, this is manipulative. This is a game about trying
to scare the players and make them feel sad; it’s all
manipulative.
If they fail the roll, the consequence that follows is
absolutely a stab wound at least; if their despair is
already at 4, it absolutely makes sense for them to be
stabbed fatally.
Keep the horror’s motivations simple
Address the characters, not the players
The horror wants to kill the main characters. Why they
want to do that isn’t particularly important. Often in
the horror movies that inspired Quietus, the killers
are just doing it because they want to do it. In The
Strangers, when asked ‘Why are you doing this to us?’,
Dollface replies, ‘Because you were home.’
Avoid saying, ‘Tylor, what is Steve doing? His car won’t
start and the killer is stalking towards him.’ Instead
say, ‘Steve, the car won’t start, and the killer’s stalking
towards you. What do you do?’ Speaking to the main
character, not the player, keeps the game focused on
the fiction. It’s important for the game’s flow, too. If you
talk to the players, you might omit important details
that factor into dice rolls and the tension level.
Motiveless murder is frightening because you can’t
reason with it. Even if the horror has a motive beyond
sadism, it doesn’t change their drive: they are there to
kill the main characters. However, bear in mind that a
motive humanises the horror - and the horror should
be a thing of primeval violence.
Make side characters real
Make the side characters seem like real people.
Give them a name and a simple motivation. Side
characters will help the main characters for the most
part. However, much like the main characters, they’re
probably not happy about the present situation either.
If it’s reasonable within the fiction to say they can’t or
won’t help, stick to that truth.
destroy
everyt
hing yo
today
u touch
destory
me this
way
everyt
hing th
at may
desert
so it ca
you
nnot hu
rt you.
With all side characters, put yourself in their shoes:
what would you do if someone was battering on your
door, screaming that someone was trying to kill them?
You’d want to help, but you might also think it was a
trick or a prank. You might call the police instead of
letting them inside.
destroy
everyt
hing yo
touch
u
ladytr
on
57
How to Run Quietus
Agree this with the player before the roll. However, it’s
a desperate roll, and they’re fighting with someone who
wants to kill them.
I n t e r p r e t i n g d i c e ro ll s
Consequences
Sometimes, a direct consequence won’t be immediately
apparent - that’s okay. You can take dread instead
(detailed below), or introduce a consequence that’s not
directly related to the roll. For example, if the main
character is trying to flag down a passing car for help
and fails, the car driver might turn out to be the killer’s
accomplice.
On mitigated successes and failed results, you’ll often
have to come up with consequences ranging in severity.
Consequences are usually things that directly affect the
character who made the roll, but they don’t have to be.
Most of the time, the consequence and its severity
will be apparent from the action that’s being rolled
for. If a main character attempts a jump from the
roof, a consequence might be a twisted ankle, a severe
consequence might be a broken leg or a limb impaled
on a rusty rebar.
Remember, a consequence doesn’t have to affect just
the main character directly involved in the roll - the
consequence can affect the other main character,
any side characters, or any story elements. If a main
character throws a Molotov cocktail at the killer and
misses, it could instead start a fire that cuts off their
route of escape. Consequences must be only two
things: in line with the established fiction, and bad.
If they’re gunning their car to get out a ditch, the
consequence would be damage to the car. If they’re
calling for help on their phone, it runs out of battery.
Hope
As the GM of a horror game, it’s easy to forget that you
must award hope when appropriate. You must raise the
hope score when a player makes a roll that would help
them escape from or defeat the horror and gets either
a success or a mitigated success (i.e. the highest die in
the pool is between 4 and 6).
But how do you spot a hopeful action? A couple of
qualifiers on this. Firstly, not every action or roll stands
a chance of raising the hope score. The roll must be
specifically about defeating or permanently escaping
the horror.
58
If you have a decent amount of dread, don’t be afraid to
take more when you next have the chance. Building up
a pool of dread allows you to keep the main characters’
despair and hope scores balanced. It’s also rather
anxiety inducing for players to see that growing pile,
since they know it’s going to come their way.
Hope often comes with a consequence attached.
The hope score rises if the player succeeds or gets a
mitigated success on the roll when trying to escape or
defeat the horror - but they also get everything bad that
comes with that roll. So, if a player rolls a mitigated
success on a desperate roll, the hope score increases,
but the character also suffers a severe consequence, and
the GM gets two points of dread.
Nothing in a game of Quietus should feel comfortable
or safe, and spending dread is your tool for
maintaining that feeling. These roll-independent
consequences help maintain Quietus’ constant
maudlin, desperate tone, as things can go wrong even
when the characters try their hardest - phone batteries
die, cars run out of gas, the cop you’re running to for
help panics and shoots at you.
Despair
As the GM, you don’t have a say over how despair
increases on dice rolls. Either the player chooses
to increase despair on certain results, or it happens
automatically on severe failures. The rules for dice rolls
and increasing despair are on page 21.
y?
angel sa
would an
So what
know.
wants to
the devil
Dread
criminal
Ple
fiona AP
If you’re not sure what consequence ought to follow
from a roll, you can opt to take one or more points
of dread instead. Dread is a resource you can spend
to inflict consequences on characters and raise their
dread (see page 18 on spending dread). Dread serves
three purposes: building a sense of fear for the players,
pacing, and reinforcing tone.
59
How to Run Quietus
Most rolls will just advance the story as main
characters deal with previous consequences, or try to
stop things getting worse. Hiding from a masked killer
while they search for you won’t raise hope - sure, you
won’t get caught on a success, but you’re still stuck in
the house with a killer.
Hardik & Isha
THEY MET LATE, LATER THAN THEY REALISED. SHE WROTE WONDERFUL NOVELS.
When they were in their forties, both on second marriages but feeling like kids again in each other’s
presence, she would read to him at night what she’d been working on that day. She’d always fall
asleep first, manuscript papers collapsing on her chest. She knew how it was going to end, of course.
Two decades passed; that spark and that excitement had faded, as all things do. Their love was still
there, softer around the edges, but there. Then the illness took her. Not all at once, not finally, but
piece by piece, little bits of her mind drifting away like ash fluttering up from a bonfire. Now he
would read to her in the evening, novels that she didn’t remember writing. She no longer knew the
end, though he did.
One evening, she sat up, eyes clear, speech lucid. Hardik started when she said his name; he more
or less considered that he lived alone. ‘Hardik, Hardik, when was the last time I wrote something? A
novel, a collection even?’
He barely knew what to say, so he answered as simply as possible. ‘It’s been ten years, sweetheart.’
The clarity in her eyes shifted to terror. ‘No, no, no. One book every ten, or they’ll come for me,
they’ll come for me.’
Hardik’s heart ached. Not lucidity, then. Not a reprieve. Just a new madness. He tucked her in,
kissed her on the forehead as she murmured that they were coming, and went downstairs.
As he passed the stairwell window, something caught his eye. There were five men standing in the
garden. No, not men, exactly. Not quite.
Thirteen Tragedies
H o w to u s e t h e s e s c e n a r i o s
This chapter contains 13 scenarios for Quietus, each
with their own flavour of melancholy horror, written
by some of the best RPG writers in the industry right
now. These scenarios provide answers, either explicitly
or implicitly, to the character and scenario generation
questions found on page 34, and give the GM a horror.
There are also some example scar scenes included,
which give hypothetical instances of how the main
characters could use scars to bring in elements and side
characters.
and come up with your own horror, or mix and match
the horror from one scenario and the characters from
another.
All of the scenarios here are great examples of the kind
of things that a Quietus session should include, so the
third option is to use them as a source of inspiration:
read them all, soak them up, and then remember
the kind of elements that they included when you’re
coming up with your characters and horrors.
There are three ways you can use these scenarios. You
can use them whole-cloth, skipping the character
and scenario generation section to jump straight
into the first scene. This way, you can either let your
players read the entire scenario, or give them sections
pertinent to them while you keep the horror’s details a
secret for that extra element of dread.
You can also pick and choose parts of the scenario for
inspiration. You could lift the horror, or a version of it
adapted to your tastes and the fiction, and pit it against
main characters created during character and scenario
creation. You could grab the characters and location
62
by Nell Raban
Content warnings: cancer, domestic abuse, infertility,
demonic possession
The main characters
Ruby Libunao, 55, second-generation FilipinoAmerican. A devout Catholic and highly superstitious.
Ruby was an administrative assistant at the local
high school (the one her daughter attended) until
Jun fell ill. A lifelong victim of her husband’s abuse,
she nevertheless stands by him, even as he lies on his
deathbed. Ruby is so used to struggle, she doesn’t really
recognize the strength she truly possesses.
When Ruby Bernardo met Jun—William Libunao,
Jr., he had seemed so nice. A charmer for sure, a
real guwapo, but not like his friends. He was putting
himself through architecture school, after all. A real,
self-made Filipino-American immigrant like her and
her family. So when he asked her to marry her, ‘yes’
was the only word that came to mind. They had Clara
soon after. Jun worked hard, started his own firm.
But despite his success, there was always something
missing. He built them a beautiful house, which Ruby
was expected to fill with the laughter of children.
Clara Libunao, 28, third-generation FilipinoAmerican. A registered nurse whose life fell apart after
a recent divorce. Her parents offered to help her with
money, but she won’t accept it from her dad. Though
raised Catholic, Clara has always been skeptical about
religion, although she wouldn’t claim to be an outand-out atheist. She’s come home after a decade away
to care for her ailing father. But given her history
with him, suffice it to say that she’s only here for her
Those children never came; after many failed attempts,
Ruby experienced secondary infertility: the inability
to bear more children. So Clara grew up an only child,
and Jun became abusive, never satisfied with anything.
Clara watched her parents’ marriage fester for years.
When she came of age, she realized she didn’t have to
put up with any of it any more, and left home. Clara
stayed in touch with her mother, begged her to leave
too, but Ruby refused; divorce is a sin.
Then Jun fell terminally ill with liver cancer. He had
been diagnosed some time ago, but his condition
rapidly deteriorated over the last month. Ruby stayed
by his side, taking a leave of absence from her job to
care for him. She called home Clara, too, who was a
nurse now, hoping the family could reconcile things
before it was too late.
mother’s sake.
The location
63
The Libunao home looks like the kind of house an
architect would build for himself. That’s because it
is. An homage to brutalism, the house resembles a
trio of mismatched concrete cinder blocks grouped
together, with spacious glass cutouts for windows. The
house stands on a generous plot of land in a well-todo suburb, set back from the gate by a gently winding
drive.
Thirteen Tragedies
A K n o c k at t h e D o o r
Despite its industrial appearance, Jun intended to raise
a large family with Ruby in this house. But many of
the rooms remain unfurnished, and the fact that only
two people inhabit this space now is only made more
apparent by the cold lifelessness of the grey concrete
walls.
Were he by some miracle to arrive on the scene, he
might be able to perform an emergency exorcism.
What went wrong yesterday
Clara arrived home just in time, as Ruby told her that
Jun’s condition had rapidly worsened. Clara noted that
he’s running a record-high fever, and Ruby claimed to
hear him occasionally babbling incoherently. Clara did
everything she could to make him comfortable, but
she’s taken a personal toll from seeing her father this
way. She’s been trying since then to remain calm and
logical, and her mother, being how she is, isn’t making
that easy.
The horror
In some parts of the Philippines, tales are told of a trio
of wanderers called the Kumakatok (lit. ‘knocking’),
who visit omens - normally of illness or death - upon
families by rapping on their front doors. Two resemble
old men, while the third appears to be a young woman.
They don’t speak, and they keep their gazes obscured.
Example scar scenes
The Kumakatok will knock at the beginning of the
scenario, but will never enter the house. Instead, after
a short while, they’ll simply leave as ominously as they
came. Horrifying though the tale of the Kumakatok
may be, the real horror is upstairs in the sickroom.
The devil himself has arrived, and he sees, hears, and
speaks through his vessel, Jun. For whatever reason,
he isn’t finished tormenting Ruby and Clara, and has
so much in store for them. Jun will enter a trance that
will find him babbling violently and hysterically. But it
won’t be long before he gains clarity and strength, and
rises from his bed.
Trapped in the kitchen and desperate for a way
to defend herself, Ruby’s player remembers Jun
humiliating her once during a dinner party. She ran
into the kitchen crying and ashamed. She saw the knife
block, and imagined what it would be like to kill him.
Ruby prayed for forgiveness for the thought then, but
now she reaches for the knife, knowing it might be her
last hope.
Momentarily separated from her daughter, Ruby longs
for help from a family member, someone like her
older brother Vincent. Vincent was always there for
her whenever there was trouble with Jun. When their
parents died, he became the head of their family. An
example of the kind of man Jun wasn’t and never could
be. Years ago, she gave her brother a set of house keys,
including the front gate. Ruby prays that today he stops
by to check on his sister.
Who’s not there
Ruby is very well acquainted with her church’s priest,
Father Simon. She asked him to visit and pray with her
for Jun’s recovery. Unfortunately, he’s returning from
a visit to the Diocese and ran into car trouble on the
road.
64
by Josh Fox
Content warnings: alcohol, substance abuse, murder
Some questions for the players:
Fifteen years ago, your family scrambled onto the dark
and rocky Cornish shore in lashing rain. You hurled
yourselves into the heaving surf and battled your way
to the wreck of the Hathersage, risking your lives to
grab the payday of a lifetime. Enough to buy off your
family’s debts. Enough to get out of the endless, backbreaking, and increasingly futile drudgery of the failing
copper mining industry. Enough to make a better life
for yourselves.
◊
What did you do with the dying man?
◊
What did you recover from the Hathersage?
◊
What will you do if you get the loot? Where will
you go?
The main characters
George Bolitho. As the eldest son, George has always
been expected to take up the mantle of foreman at
the mine. But he can see all too clearly that mining is
on the way out, and he hates the job anyway. He has
long fantasised about leaving Cornwall for good, but
couldn’t face letting his father down, and he doesn’t
have any other skills. Lately his only relief has come
from excessive drinking. His greatest fear is that he’ll
die alone, in a dark place.
You were only children, really. Boys on the cusp of
manhood, at best. It was legitimate salvage, or so you
thought. But there was one survivor of the wreck. A
dying man. He wouldn’t have lived, couldn’t have lived.
But as long as he made it to shore still breathing, that
legitimate salvage is unlawful plunder. You did what
you had to.
Jamie Bolitho. Jamie is a bright boy, and last year was
offered a scholarship at a fancy private school. His
father initially seemed to accept he would be leaving,
but found some excuse to stop him from going in the
end. He fiercely resents the lost chance and nurses a
grudge against his father, and against George for not
interceding on his behalf. His greatest fear is that he’ll
never amount to anything.
You buried the stuff you recovered. You couldn’t risk
selling it there and then. Anyway, it was tainted.
Now it’s 1917, and your draft letters will arrive any
day now. When they do, you’ll be cast into the meat
grinder. But with the money from the Hathersage,
maybe you could change that. That’s why you’ve rowed
out to the island where you buried the loot.
Just one problem: there wasn’t only one survivor from
the Hathersage. Unbeknownst to you, someone else
made it out. They saw what you did. And they’ve been
biding their time, waiting to take their revenge.
65
Thirteen Tragedies
A Wr e c k i n g
The location
What went wrong yesterday
Longships, a chain of rocky islets off the Southwest tip
of the Cornish coast. The islands are bleak and barren,
and exposed to the ferocious elements.
When the Bolitho boys set out the weather was fair, but
a violent storm descended as they arrived at the island.
They couldn’t reach the loot, and in fact came close to
drowning in the attempt. Now they’re huddled on the
highest part of the island, trying to keep as warm and
dry as they can, waiting out the storm – and the tide.
At one end of the chain, the Longships lighthouse
stands. The loot from the Hathersage is buried at the
other end, out of sight of the lighthouse, on the islet of
Tal-Y-Maen. The hiding place can only be reached at
low tide.
Example scar scenes
George recalls a boy named Billy who worked in the
mines with him when he was a lad. The two of them
were briefly friends and bunked off work together
regularly. Billy got the sack, but George’s father
wouldn’t sack him of course. Now Billy is working in
the Longships lighthouse. George can have him show
up, having spotted the brothers huddled on the rocks.
The nearest land – currently concealed by the storm –
is Land’s End, just over a mile away.
The horror
Alice Hatcher was only twelve years old when
she watched the Brewers board the wreck of the
Hathersage and murder her father. Hiding just out of
sight, their arrival sparked hope that swiftly turned
to horror, pain, and fear. These last fifteen years she
found herself a new home and a new family. She has
gradually forgotten most of her old life. But she has
never forgotten what the Bolithos did. She has watched
them from afar, waiting for her chance at revenge. Now
she’s going to kill them – but not before she makes
them confess.
Jamie recalls a family visit to the rocks. It was a still,
sunny day, and for once they didn’t have to worry
about work. The brothers found a sheltered cave where
they threw stones into the surf, but the tide came in
and they got trapped. Their father was furious. Now
Jamie can use the cave as a hiding place.
George remembers getting drunk and getting into a
fight at the local pub. He was beaten bloody by a thug
named Mick Royal. The next day, he went and bought
himself a knife, and he’s kept it on him ever since. Now
he can use the knife to defend himself on the island.
Who’s not there
Your father, Joseph Bolitho, has dominated your lives
for as long as you can remember. He was your boss at
the mine. He was the one who organised the mad dash
for the goods of the Hathersage. He should be here
with you, but instead he’s in his bed, coughing up his
lungs. Reaping the rewards of a lifetime in the mines.
66
by Grant Howitt
Content warnings: drug use, abuse by a therapist,
affairs, rape, animal death, abduction, murder
Alex is smart, capable, and driven; their greatest
fear is losing control of their mind, such as suffering
irreparable brain damage.
Alex and Mallory told their couples’ therapist
everything - anything to get their relationship back
on track. But, try as they might, their marriage is
coming apart. Lucas, their therapist, recommends a
weekend away to a beautiful lakeside property where
he’s prepared a series of exercises to help them reunite
as a couple. It’s unorthodox, but they’ve both invested
so much into the relationship, so they’re willing to
do whatever it takes. As the game begins, Alex and
Mallory are being driven down twisting country roads
in an incongruous limousine - Lucas insisted that they
treat themselves, even though the car has problems
reaching the property.
Mallory, a personal trainer, is trying to get a good
collection of clients before they break away from their
employer and go freelance. As such, they spend a lot
of evenings out of the house, and their attention is
often elsewhere when they finally get to spend time
with Alex. Mallory is sleeping with at least two of their
clients on and off - Michael Stokes, a footballer who
they’re training up after a career-threatening leg injury,
and Ellie Zhao, an instagram influencer with several
lucrative product placement arrangements. Both of
them are physically fitter and lead more exciting lives
than Mallory. Mallory tells themselves the sex is simply
part of their desire to make their own business, but
there’s more to it than that. They care deeply about
both of the people they’re having affairs with. Mallory
is fit, enthusiastic and opportunistic; their greatest fear
is that their career plan doesn’t work out, and they’ll be
stuck working for someone else forever.
The main characters
Alex, a go-getting software developer whose startup
was just purchased by a larger company. They still run
the place, but micromanaging from the higher-ups is
causing plenty of frustration and late nights. Alex had
been quietly siphoning off funds from their startup
prior to the acquisition. They’re terrified that their new
managers will find out and use it to kick them out of
the business - but that’s not enough to stop doing it.
They have expensive tastes - a cocaine habit, upgrading
their tech, and donating large amounts of money to
Hecate01, a Twitch streamer they are helplessly in love
with, hoping to recieve validation.
The location
A beautiful house by the side of a lake. On their
therapist’s recommendation, the couple have spent a
sizeable chunk of money to come here for a weekend to
put their marriage back together. Whilst there, they are
to work through exercises the therapist has put in place
to build trust in one another and reconnect as a couple.
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Thirteen Tragedies
C o u p le s ’ T h e r a p y
While these exercises start out innocuous enough, they
quickly become unsettling and perverse. In addition,
Lucas has full control over the house, and has hidden
things there to motivate the characters - evidence of
their lies, their lovers bound and tied in the basement,
a pistol loaded with blanks, and so on.
He has prepared the house as best he could, which
includes (but is not limited to):
The horror
Lucas - the characters don’t know his last name. It isn’t
on the website - has been the couple’s therapist for
the last nine months. Of all his clients, he thinks that
Mallory and Alex have the potential for greatness - to
make something beautiful together. He is aware of all
of their secrets as they’ve confided in him during oneon-one sessions. He will use these secrets as blackmail,
threatening to reveal them to the other person (or a
third party, such as the characters’ employers) should
the characters go against his wishes.
He believes that, through a series of challenging
exercises, he can reignite the love that they once
shared - and still share, damnit - forging their union
anew, stronger than before. He is completely obsessed
with the idea that, no matter what, Mallory and Alex
must stop lying to one another and become the happy,
upstanding, well-to-do family that they should be. He
doesn’t want to out them to one another, but instead let
them confess and overcome their shame.
68
◊
Filling the place with hidden cameras and
microphones, so he can observe what’s happening
from outside
◊
Providing felt-tip pens in different colours that the
couple use to write what they love about the other
person on each other
◊
Getting one character to blindfold the other and
lead them around the house or garden
◊
Hiding a bag of cocaine somewhere and ordering
that the couple take some together
◊
Giving the couple masks that look weirdly like
Hecate01 and Michael or Ellie, then ordering them
to have sex wearing the masks
◊
Leaving a chicken in the back garden that the
couple have to kill and eat as a bonding exercise
◊
Leaving a pistol loaded with blanks that the couple
are to use to ‘shoot’ one another (at a safe-ish
distance) to represent them leaving their old lives
behind
◊
Abducting Michael, Ellie, or Hecate01, gagging and
restraining them, and leaving them somewhere
the characters won’t immediately notice (the attic,
under a tarp in the boathouse, in a crawlspace)
with an eye to challenging the characters to kill
them to free them from their past
Mallory’s player narrates how they went running out
in these woods with Ellie during one of their training
sessions, and they had sex whilst hiding from passersby. The GM tells Mallory’s player to raise their anxiety
score and to add an extra die any time they try to hide
or keep quiet.
Alex’s player narrates how, on the day they arrived,
the house’s caretaker (Bernard) helped them get to the
property after the limousine got stuck on the winding
roads. Bernard used to own the house, but had to sell
it after making some bad decisions. The owner (Lucas)
kept him on as help. Bernard gets frustrated at all these
rich people coming into what he still considers to be
his house. Alex can now bring the caretaker into the
story to provide help on action rolls. However, after
three rolls, he flips - either he’s been blackmailed by
Lucas into helping, or he’s finally had it and gets angry.
Alex’s player wants to see if they can figure out where
the cameras are feeding video to. He describes a
flashback where Alex use their computing proficiency
to cover up their embezzlement from their employer,
and the fact that they gave the embezzled money to
a Twitch streamer from Mallory. The GM tells Alex’s
player to add a dice to any action where they use a
computer.
Mallory’s player narrates how, a few months ago, they
realised that Michael’s injury was healing really well
- so well that he might not need them as a physical
therapist any more.
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Thirteen Tragedies
Unwilling to lose a valuable client and the emotional
connection they had built, Alex quietly instituted a
regime of therapy that would slow Michael’s recovery.
The GM tells Mallory’s player they can add a dice on
rolls where Mallory lies to someone to get what they
want.
Example scar scenes
T h e Fru i t o f O u r L a b o u r
by Hayley Gordon
Content warnings: Witchcraft, mob violence, poverty
Most of those who farm the lands near Layeux are
poor, streaked with dirt, living in thatched households
of but one room. The Accarts are far better than those
desperate peasants. God has lifted their family from
the mud - or so Javier says, and so his younger siblings
may believe.
1482, France. Javiar Accart is a witch. The village has
accused him. The village has sentenced him. He burns
today, outside the church. And when he is naught but
charred and smoking ash, then let God’s judgment be
visited upon his gluttonous family.
In years past, the Accart farmlands - like the farms
that surround them - have only produced an average
harvest. Then Javier turned his mind to improvements,
ways of bettering the farm. In the last five years, the
Accart fields have grown more and more bounteous
with harvest. Yet the farms that surround the Accart
lands have shrivelled and dried. Their harvest has
worsened year after year, withered oats and barley
barely rising from the ground. Has God granted the
Accarts bounteous success, or is this the devil’s false
harvest?
The main characters
Our main characters are the younger siblings of Javier
Accart (35). Since their parents passed, the Accart
siblings’ fortunes have been inseparable from their
farm. It is their home, their livelihood, and their older
brother’s greatest obsession.
The siblings may choose their first name (their last
is Accart), their age, and their appearance. But they
should remember that the Accart family is a proud
family. A family far better than the peasant folk who
surround them.
Unknown to his siblings, Javier has secretly diverted
an important Layeux river to the Accart fields. The
river dips underground some miles from Layeux,
providing irrigation to the farms in the area. Most of
the farmers in the region are not aware of its existence.
Javier discovered it when exploring the empty lands
that border the Accart farm, and diverted it at a secret
location upstream.
Names: Aalis, Ame, Amee, Amis, Cateline, Enguerrand,
Estienne, Eudes, Garnier, Geoffroi, Gidie, Gosse,
Guarin, Guiscard, Jehan, Jehanne, Johanne, Josse,
Melisende, Onfroi, Piers, Roland, Roul, Vauquelin
The location
The Accart family have always lived here, on their large
farm adjoining the village of Layeux. Layeux is far from
other towns or cities. There is nothing but farming
here. The village itself is no more than a church and a
store of general wares.
70
Carefully hidden in Javier’s room are a map of the river
and point of diversion, as well as his journal which
states, ‘God will not give the Accarts their due, and
therefore I must take it from nature itself.’
Example scar scenes
The middle Accart sibling, Johanne, wants the church
minister to take their side. She remembers herself and
Javier having the minister over for an expensive dinner.
One of the nearby farmers knocked on the door to ask
for food for the children, and Johanne handed them
the bones and offal discarded before the meal. The
farmer leaves, and the minister expresses his approval
at their charity. Johanne can now bring the minister
into the story and appeal for help.
The horror
The farmers surrounding Layeux are poor, hungry,
and, so it seems, cursed. Their children eat nettles and
weeds. Many farmers work the Accart lands, where the
succulent crops of apples and pears grow around them.
And yet they do not even earn enough to eat their
fill. They are hungry and they will devour the Accart
family. The farmers are hungry, vengeful, and deadly.
But are they truly the horror here?
The youngest of the Accart siblings, Josse, wants
somewhere secret to hide from the crowd. He
remembers himself, Johanne, and Javier burying their
mother beside their father in a small cemetery cut into
the hillside. To protect their parents’ grave from wild
animals in the area, they built a shelter with a roof that
blends into the grass. Josse remembers shutting the
door of the shelter, leaving his mother behind. He can
now head to the shelter to hide.
What went wrong yesterday
Yesterday, a mob of Layeux farmers, thin and angry,
came to the Accart house and seized Javier. They said
the Accarts had bargained with the devil. They said
the devil had given bounties to the Accart lands and
cursed their own. They said Javier was a witch, who
taketh what God will not give him, and therefore they
said Javier will burn. Then they took him away.
Johanne wishes to bargain with the leader of the
crowd, offering their family’s jewellery to convince
the crowd to back down. Johanne remembers Javier
buying her an engraved necklace for her birthday. She
was shocked the family could afford such a luxury. But
Javier assured her that they were doing well, and would
continue to do well. Johanne pulls the gold necklace
from her drawer, sick with self-disgust at the wealth
that bought it.
Who’s Not There
Javier employs a steward named Roul. Ordinarily, on
this day of the month, Roul would go to the meeting
place in front of the church to pay wages to the farmers
who work the Accart fields. However, Roul has fled the
town for fear of reprisal from the farmers.
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Thirteen Tragedies
With the success of his ‘improvements’, Javier
expanded the Accart crops. New fields of pears and
apples ring the older ones of oats, barley, and spelt.
The wealth of the Accart family has grown and grown.
At the same time, desperate farmers nearby have been
forced to take work upon the Accart farmlands. Now,
the harvest is underway. Farmers near Layeux work the
Accart fields, for wages so poor they can barely eat.
H A llway s & E x i t s
by Aura Belle
Content warnings: Troubled relationships, abduction
The main characters
August and Reed officially became a couple via
Facebook status in 2015, then welcomed one of
August’s co-worker, Tabitha, into their relationship in
2017. In the middle of 2018, they all moved in together
and things ran smoothly, until three months ago when
Reed got a job offer in Michigan, leaving the triad
divided on how to progress.
August is in her late twenties. She’s a newly minted
supervisor at a popular retail chain - it’s not the most
glamorous job she’s had but it pays well, even if the
stress isn’t really worth it. She’s been with Reed forever
and Tabitha only recently, yet loves them both just
the same. These past few months without Reed have
felt almost alien to her, unfamiliar. Tabitha is here,
but everyone isn’t here, and she’s just now learning
how unprepared she is for that. She’s trying to not let
Tabitha see how awkward she feels around just her,
and she’s trying to process those feelings herself. She’s
feeling better about the move to Michigan each day,
but still needs some convincing.
The lease is up at the old place, which is cramped
and small anyway, so the group moves into a new
apartment in Spanish Halls on a one-year lease. Then,
after a long discussion, they agree to have Reed visit
Michigan and get the training in for nine months,
after which time they’ll visit for a month and decide if
the final move is right for all of them. The separation
is the first they’ve had, and everyone feels something
new. The nights are long and strange considerations
are coming to the forefront of everyones’ minds - both
August and Tabitha, living together alone now, both
view each other differently. Half-conversations and
things left unsaid pepper the nights in Spanish Halls.
On an unseasonably cold November night, the
power flickers across the city. Strange light move over
downtown, changing direction erratically, before
settling over the apartment complex. A strange hum
fogs the air and the shadows of something moving
down the halls keeps everyone locked inside. Tabby
and August have nowhere to go. All they have is each
other.
Tabitha is in her early twenties and works at a call
center. The benefits are great and the pay is decent,
but the hours are hit-or-miss. She’s happy in the
new relationship, but there’s a sense of anxiety, a
sense of feeling like the odd woman out, thanks to
capital-D Depression and her own insecurities from
past relationships. Secretly, Tabitha hopes that this
small absence from Reed will allow her and August to
bond better. She knows August has been feeling odd
lately but doesn’t know why, so is assuming the worst.
Regarding the move, Tabitha doesn’t want to leave
Georgia at all and is trying to figure out what she wants
to do, and her anxiety has kept her from vocalizing
how she truly feels.
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Spanish Halls is an apartment complex in a busy city
in Georgia - not the busiest, not your Atlantas or your
Savannahs, smaller and more intimate, but still quite
active - where the rent is high, and the humidity will
destroy your spirit. The building is two stories tall
and rectangular, a set of walls surrounding a central
courtyard and mostly-clean pool. Four long, twostory hallways hold every apartment, and despite
management’s attempt to paint them and decorate
with contemporary artwork, they still feel sterile and
uninviting. The lights are usually not working in the
north hallway and are in a constant state of repair, but
the apartments themselves are quite nice.
Example scar scenes
Tabitha and August have been seperated in an escape
from the creatures, and Tabitha’s trying to keep calm
while something outside scratches around. Though
the place may be new, the feelings aren’t. Tabitha can
easily relate the feeling of abandonment and losing
people not only with what’s happening in the current
relationship, but with many of her past relationships,
but she always makes it through. Remembering that
gives her strength.
A second courtyard and gazebo sit out front of the
entrance next to the office and laundry facilities, and
a road out back leads to a major highway. The interior
courtyard and pool aren’t so bad but could use some
work. Management keeps saying they’re installing a
playground, but they’ve been saying that for years.
The entire place feels more like a mid-tier hotel than
anything, and that vibe carries through to Tabitha and
August’s hearts.
Tabitha is lost in a section of Spanish Halls she hasn’t
been too before - all the corridors look the same, and
one of the creatures is chasing her. She remembers
moving from home to home growing up, place to
place, never feeling settled. Everything is always
new and strange to her, even people. She never feels
grounded, never quite feels at home. But she always
finds a way...
The horror
August is trying to come up with an escape plan. She
thinks about the stress of managing a full-time job plus
two full-time people with their full-time jobs, with
the stress of moving, with the stress of a new place
and new feelings and the awfulness of loneliness and
obligation, with the stress of, well, aliens. Who knows.
It’s intense and she’s always on the verge of meltdown,
but manages not to be.
There are things moving through the city. They will
abduct people violently, with incredible strength and
speed. Several of these creatures prowl the grounds,
hallways, and rooms of Spanish Halls, it’s never quite
clear how many. They have trouble sensing humans,
mostly relying on sound. They can’t appear to smell
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Thirteen Tragedies
anything, and the dim light seems to cause them
trouble. They move quickly and can scale the walls, and
in the dim light of the electricity-barren property, it’s
nearly impossible to notice them. If they grab you, it’s
almost certainly too late.
Location
T h e H au n t i n g o f H a m m o n d H a ll
by Brandon Leon-Gambetta
Content warnings: alcohol, drug use
closed and run down, keeping Andrew’s memory.
Drunk and maybe a little high, they go to pay respects.
Twelve years ago was when it went down. It wasn’t
supposed to go like it did, but it did. Now Isabel and
Kyle are back at Hammond Hall to pay respects.
Looking back, that cold December weekend should
have been great. Isabel, Kyle, and Andrew practically
grew up together from grade school to the end of high
school. Sure, there was crap that came up. They got in
trouble, though there was never any harm in it. But
they were real friends, the kinds you don’t lose to time.
The main characters
Isabel Cuevas, 33. Isabel got it together after the visit.
She fixed her GPA, got a job she hates in the city, and
works probably too many hours. People tell her she’s
successful, that her life is perfect, and she doesn’t talk
with her family any more. She wasn’t going to go to the
reunion, but Kyle reached out and pulled a bunch of
manipulative crap about ‘found family’ and ‘Andrew
would want it’ and ‘the good old days.’ She isn’t afraid
of Hammond Hall, but she’s afraid she’ll figure out who
killed Andrew.
Nobody leaves this town anyway. Except Andrew got
his shit together. He left for that fancy school in New
York and disappeared for two years into academia and
pre-law, while Isabel and Kyle went the 26 minutes to
Western so they could get jobs back home.
Kyle Sarno, 32. Kyle learned to push the visit down.
He finished his degree in an extra year, but he’s going
to this reunion because it’s where all his friends are.
He’s a production manager back home. It’s good work,
and it’s close to his dad, so Kyle can look after him.
Kyle is tired. He reached out to Isabel because he just
wants a weekend where he can chill with friends and
not be in charge of everyone around him. He’s afraid of
Hammond Hall, but Isabel wasn’t interested in the visit
until he mentioned Andrew, so he’s going to make the
best of it.
Andrew visited once. One weekend. He came back
home one time to slum it, and it should’ve been good.
But drunk and maybe a little high in Hammond
Hall, he fell over the railing. The student union was
closed for a week for investigation and cleanup. It
was supposed to just be a good time. Isabel and Kyle
never really talked about what happened, but they also
weren’t questioned too hard by the police, even though
they were there. These things happen.
The location
Five years ago Hammond Hall closed when a local
business donated a new student union. Twelve years
later, Isabel and Kyle are back for their ten year reunion
after graduation. Hammond Hall is just sitting there
Hammond Hall was an ugly building from the day
it was built. It’s big and impressive looking on the
74
What Went Wrong Yesterday
Isabel arrived in town late and intends to earlier than
she had said. Yesterday, she and Kyle grabbed coffee
to talk about everything except Hammond Hall. Their
conversation exploded when she realised that Kyle
wasn’t willing to go in before the reunion, and he
realised that Isabel wasn’t planning on staying after the
reunion. They agreed to ditch the reunion early, even
though they’d be dressed up and buzzed, but neither of
them like it.
Example scar scenes
Kyle’s player flashes back to college when he worked
briefly in the dining hall and hated it. He remembers
arguing with Isabel before going to work, cutting
vegetables with his knuckles white from rage, and then
snapping the knife as he drove it into the chopping
board. He remembers hiding the snapped blade
between the fryer and the grill to avoid getting fired,
blood dripping from his hands. His anxiety score goes
up by one, but he can take the knife and get an extra
die on any roll where he uses it.
The horror
Andrew Darrell doesn’t exist anymore. He fell,
snapped his neck, and died reflected in the mirrors of
Hammond Hall. Reflected in those mirrors, Isabel and
Kyle came in and ate their breakfast, lunch, and dinner
for another two years pretending Andrew hadn’t died
there. In those mirrors, Andrew’s reflection lingered
and mingled with their guilt, fear, and insistence
that they don’t mind coming back. Now a spectre of
his face appears in the mirrors and every reflective
surface. A dark form walks the halls through slivers of
light with a long, jagged piece of glass clutched in its
cold, pale hands. It hunts in this abandoned place not
for vengeance (though it will take it), not for blood
(though it will spill it), but to bring the truth into the
abandoned hall. It is a creature of Isabel and Kyle’s
guilt, and it will not let them leave until that guilt is
redeemed.
Isabel wants someone to come by Hammond Hall
looking for her. She narrates the night of Andrew’s
death, and how she ran to the arms of her roommate
Meg and told her everything. She can now bring Meg
to Hammond Hall looking for her, since Meg knows
Isabel won’t keep away from her past. She’ll give an
extra die, but the spirit wearing Andrew’s face isn’t
picky about who it kills.
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Thirteen Tragedies
outside, but the inside is two open floors of graffiti
tagged walls, faded bulletin boards, and five years of
rot. There was a dining hall you could look down on
from the second floor of study spaces, and Isabel and
Kyle know exactly which replaced section of carpet was
where Andrew fell. When it was lit with fluorescent
lights, it felt bright and welcoming at least. Without
them, it becomes obvious that its only windows are on
the now boarded up front doors. What it does have is
dozens of mirrors, smudged with dust, many cracked,
some broken, but all reflecting flashlight beams
through the darkness. The largest is set on the ceiling,
still whole as it was twelve years ago.
H E RI TAGE
by Misha Bushyager
Content warnings: miscarriage, slavery, racism,
gaslighting
Sam Whitburn - a sandy haired white man in his early
forties from an old southern family that migrated
North (and changed their name slightly) in the roaring
twenties. A math professor at the local community
college, he agreed to come to Whitebourne Hall just to
get his mother to stop nagging him about it. He doesn’t
quite understand his wife’s dislike of the place. He’s
more upset about the loss of their little girl over any
curiosity with Whitebourne Hall’s history. It’s just an
old building, and his ancestors freed their slaves long
before the war… at least that’s what he’s always been
told.
It’s only been a few weeks since the funeral that
changed their lives forever, but Sam and Lex need to
move on. At least, that’s what Sam’s mother kept telling
Lex. So Sam and Lex drove south from their cozy
New York City brownstone to the middle of nowhere
Georgia for a vacation at Whitebourne Hall - a stately
manor that has been in Sam’s family for generations,
but is now primarily rented out to southern belles who
want a big plantation, Scarlett O’Hara wedding.
The caretaker, one of Sam’s cousins, looked at them
oddly when Lex walked in, but quickly pasted on a
smile once Sam introduced himself. They were shown
to the ‘master’s suite’, a moniker that made Lex roll her
eyes when she saw the nameplate despite her sadness.
The location
Whitebourne Hall - a sprawling neoclassical mansion
with a wraparound porch supported by a colonnade.
It’s isolated, surrounded by an acre of manicured lawn
then acres more of cotton fields. The interior is pure
Old South with only the tiniest nods to modern life,
like light switches and outlets. There’s no Wi-Fi and
barely any cell phone service. The kitchen is new, for
the 1930s. Its sole phone is an older rotary dial style
mounted on the wall. The bedrooms are large with
high ceilings and enormous four poster beds hung
with heavy draperies. The bathrooms are small and
feature ancient claw foot tubs and rag rugs scattered
on their polished wood floors. The only truly modern
room is the laundry room, industrial machines capable
of cleaning all the bedding in a few hours dominate the
space.
The main characters
Lex Freeman, a tall black woman in her late thirties
with waist length locs and a deep brown complexion.
An architect, she’s been married to Sam for about
a decade. After years of fertility treatments and
miscarriages, they have just lost their first and only
child, a baby girl who only lived a few hours. She was
aware of what she married into and put her foot down
about not getting married at Whitebourne Hall, but
was too grief stricken to object when her mother-inlaw pushed the location on them as a getaway.
76
Mary Louise Whitebourne - The eldest daughter of
Colonel Jeremiah Whitebourne CSA and spinster who
lived in Whitebourne Hall until her death in 1882. Not
only did the Whitebournes not free their slaves before
the war, they continued to treat them as slaves for years
after as she ruled the plantation with an iron hand in
her disabled father’s stead. When their duplicity was
finally discovered, there was a revolt that ended in their
hanging by the incensed workers.
Scar scenes
Sam’s player narrates waking up from a nightmare
when he was a child visiting the house. He remembers
an older woman singing him an old lullaby as he fell
back asleep. Sam’s player can now use that lullaby to
gain a die when he uses it.
Jeremiah Jr. returned from gold mining out west to
find the remains of his sister scattered all over. He
buried all but her head, which he never found. Stories
of her haunting the place sprang up shortly after he
moved back into the Hall. The former enslaved people
of the area couldn’t spend more than a night in the
place without ‘accidents’ happening to any who set foot
inside, some fatal. It’s continued for generations, only
chasing away anyone black who dares to spend the
night under her roof.
Lex’s player narrates a memory of Jennifer, the
housekeeper here. Jennifer was kind to her after
Jennifer’s mother was rather cruel to Lex on her and
Sam’s wedding day. Jennifer can help with die rolls, but
will likely pay for her ‘betrayal’.
Sam’s player narrates finding an old trunk in the attic
as a child, full of old pictures and clothes, including a
confederate uniform and a photo that bears a striking
resemblance to present day Sam. He can use the
uniform to help with die rolls, but that will probably
only work once.
Who’s not there
Lex’s mother Alma was supposed to meet them there
after she took care of a few things around her own
home. She was also planning on packing away the
nursery for them to save her daughter that heartache.
What went wrong yesterday
Lex went for a walk near the old creek that winds
its way through the property. She’d been having a
series of small accidents that she chalked up to not
77
Lex’s player narrates a memory of a summer spent
with her grandmother in Glaban. She remembers her
grandmother showing her how to properly hold a knife
to butcher a chicken, and being sick shortly after she
did it. She can use the butcher knife in the kitchen
effectively once she finds it.
Thirteen Tragedies
paying attention or not getting enough sleep or being
distracted. When she fell in the creek though, she
swore she felt someone push her. Once in the water, it
felt like someone was pulling her down. While looking
for Lex, Sam heard the splashing. He pulled her out
fairly quickly. However, he explained that the recent
storm swelled the creek and caused bank erosion,
which is why she fell.
The horror
H o le s
by Alex Abou Karam
Content warnings: war
The main characters
Malak and Khaldoun have lived in the same beige
four story building since their marriage 50 years
ago. During that time, the civil war came and left,
miraculously leaving all of their seven children
unharmed. It did leave behind bullet holes, so many
that Malak stopped counting. In the 5 years since the
war ended, most of the major damage was repaired
or replaced - but the bullet holes are too minor a
nuisance to address. Her children have moved on, but
the holes remain, whispers of a painful past that never
penetrated the safety of her home.
Malak Nammoura, 56. She is an old lady who finds
comfort in her routine. Daughter of a powerful
merchant who was obsessed with climbing the ranks of
the free-masons, she lived a spoiled but sheltered life
and married young. Sharp-tongued, but always good
natured, she loves her children dearly and dedicated
her life to securing them all higher education and
plentiful careers. Now that they’ve all moved on to start
their own families, she feels the dreaded loneliness of
her empty nest, and fills up her time with household
chores, ladies’ hookah get-togethers, and renovating
her home.
A day or two ago, while two of Malak’s adult children
were helping her move an ornate walnut bookshelf
that’s been in her home since before the war, she
noticed a new bullet hole.
Khaldoun Nammoura, 67. He is Malak’s husband, a
once prosperous dandy who, much like everyone else,
lost it all in the war. He’s quieter than Malak, but loves
telling a story that ends in a good joke. Generally set
in his patriarchal ways and small comforts, he seldom
helps around the house. He spends most of his time
watching the news or hanging out with his older
brothers who live nearby. His open heart surgery left
him sensitive to smoke, so he tries to leave the house
every time Malak shares hookah with her friends.
Nestled behind the massive bookshelf, inexplicably,
she concluded the hole must’ve been there since before
they moved in, they just never noticed it. Khaldoun
brushed it off, insisting there had to be a simple
explanation for it. The building was old, after all. Malak
agreed, but the uneasiness persisted.
In the days since the banal incident, Malak noticed
the bullet holes more. It feels as if they’ve begun to
multiply on the building’s facade, and have been
appearing inside the home consistently: under a rug,
by the doorbell, on the balcony. Khaldoun has noticed
them too. Something’s not right.
The location
The Nammoura’s cozy apartment is an old Lebanese
home flush with the ornate old-school decorations and
faded Persian carpets one would expect from a former
upper middle class family. The lacquered wooden
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What went wrong yesterday
A high pitched whistling sound near the kitchen
balcony ended in a deafening blast. Malak and
Khaldoun awoke panicked and rushed to the kitchen,
only to find it perfectly in order - apart from a fistsized hole in the wall near the stove. Not another soul
seemed to have been woken up by the commotion.
The horror
The Price is an otherworldly force that inhabits the
apartment and protects the Nammoura family. It
is born of a blood pact the youngest Nammoura
daughter, Houda, enacted at the beginning of the
civil war to ward her family from harm, completely
unbeknownst to them. She bound the home and
every meaningful object in it to an otherworldly being
who would protect the family living in it in return.
The Price doesn’t like people messing with its things.
The wards also grew weaker as Malak and Khaldoun
renovated the apartment. Getting rid of the old walnut
bookshelf dealt it a fatal blow, and now the Price has
started unbinding itself, inviting the horrors of war it
once held back to claim the lives that were spared.
Example scar scenes
Malak remembers the one instance that damaged their
home at the very beginning of the war. A stray bullet
ricocheted off their balcony rails and embedded itself
in the wall. Houda was the closest to the window when
it happened and didn’t speak for days after that, holing
herself up in her bedroom with all her books. After
she came back out, she had a look of determination on
her face that would never leave. That was the last time
any damage came to the house or the family until now.
Malak’s player can now call Houda for help.
A mortar shell barely missed their home and landed
in the neighboring building, killing several people.
The stark memory of his children screaming while
the bombs fell raises Khaldoun’s anxiety by 2, but he
can now recall the object Houda held onto while they
huddled, a journal. He can now acquire the journal
from the girls’ room and use it to gain an extra die on
rolls that use the journal.
Who’s not there
Malak and Khaldoun’s children are conspicuously
absent as this all unfolds, though most of them call
or text to check in with their parents. Only Houda is
completely silent, but her parents are so preoccupied
with the bullet holes they don’t notice at first. Houda
heard about the bullet hole behind the bookshelf and
decided to summon the Price to make sure nothing
had gone awry. No one has been able to reach her
since.
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Thirteen Tragedies
furniture is old and heavy, the shelves laden with
crystal bobbles, and the chandeliers intricate. Despite
being old and dated, the home is kept spotless. The
potent scent of tobacco permeates the sofas, cushions,
and curtains in every corner of the house. The house
has always felt cozy, lived in, and oddly alive.
M i g h t De le t e L at e r
by Kira Magrann
Jen and Zee love clubbing. They go out about three
times a week to enjoy the local music, old school hip
hop, and EDM nights. To them, clubbing isn’t just
about the music. It’s an opportunity to express who
they really are through movement, adornment, and
connection with other people there. Clubbing is like
their church, and they worship at the altar of ecstatic
experience.
The main characters
Jen, 25. Jen is skinny, short, with pale skin and short
angular dark hair. Her style is all black punk rock jeans
and boots. She’s listless after quitting what she thought
was her dream job in the toxic fashion industry. With
little money in reserve, a recently failed relationship,
and no idea what to do next, her anxiety is through the
roof. Jen spends days trying to figure out the next step
while managing all the feelings of being overwhelmed.
Her biggest fear is that she’ll never find a place she
belongs.
They love documenting their experiences on Insta,
sharing videos of the two of them dancing and posing
in their stylish fashions. Their pages are filled with
selfies of bright neon and dark clubs. There’s something
that feels authentic about the selfies in their eyes, their
expressions, and their body language. But the photos
are unintentionally deceiving, only showcasing the
best parts of their lives. Aesthetically, they use filters
to flatter their skin, angles that focus on only their best
sides. It’s just how everybody takes club selfies. It’s part
of the culture to hide your flaws. To be perfect for the
selfie.
Zee, 26. Zee is tall, curvy, with brown skin and long
wavy dark hair. Their style is retro 90s bright colors
and patterns. They have a YouTube channel where
they do avant garde makeup styles tailored to the club
culture. The channel’s been losing subscribers recently,
and their delicate income is at risk. Zee keeps trying to
create the right content, but can’t seem to connect with
their audience anymore. Despite the constant stream of
interaction with followers, they’ve been feeling alone,
old, and uncool in their communities. Their biggest
fear is dying alone.
The two friends got into a fight yesterday involving
their club nights. Jen, out of a sense of feeling
overwhelmed, wanted to cut back the amount of their
nights out, and Zee, feeling abandoned, got angry.
Jen caved and decided to keep the regular schedule
which is what they’re up to tonight. But while they
were getting ready, they each took selfies that felt kind
of… off somehow. They’re hoping to shake it off on the
dance floor.
The location
The club is in a historical church - stone walls, stained
glass windows, and all. The main stage is outfitted
with a DJ stand. The pews were removed to create a
dance floor. There are multiple, interconnecting rooms
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The doppelgangers manifested in the selfies Jen and
Zee took before they came out that night. They are
opposite reflections of them, their worst thoughts,
insecurities, and fears come to life. With each horrible
act Jen or Zee can’t stop, the doppelgangers get one
step closer to taking over their physical bodies. The
doppelgangers threaten Jen and Zee if they try to
stop them. Yet, the people in danger are all the other
club goers, as the doppelgangers need Jen and Zee’s
bodies alive. Destroying the phones won’t work, the
doppelgangers will just jump into mirrors. The two
friends need to confront and overcome their worst
selves.
The horror
At first they both thought it was a trick of the light in
their selfies. Somewhere in the background of their
photos, standing at the edge of the dance floor, peeking
around the corner of a doorway, or sitting on the couch
next to that couple making out, was their reflection.
But it couldn’t be their reflection, because there was no
mirror there. It couldn’t have been a lookalike, because
they were wearing the same clothes. No, it was them.
Another them in the photo.
The doppleganers stare at Jen and Zee menacingly.
They dance sensually with people on the dance floor.
When they know Jen or Zee are watching, they lure
someone off into a bathroom, an empty side room,
an alley… and murder them. The victims are people
in their social circles, people who’ve done something
that upset them. They can only be seen in the selfies
but the doppelgangers have real effects in the physical
world. Their doppelgangers begin to do a number of
monstrous things, and nobody seems to notice except
for Jen and Zee.
Example scar scenes
Zee is used to scrutinizing their face in mirrors,
picking out every flaw and obsessing over how to
hide it. This makes it easier to confront the evil
doppelganger version of them that appears in their
phone screen. Increase anxiety, but get an extra die
when attempting to confront Zee’s creepy reflection.
Zee knows this club inside and out, every dark corner
and room hidden behind a door that blends seamlessly
with the walls. They’ve spent many an evening in need
of a quiet place when feeling insecure about their social
interactions at the club. If Zee needs a place to hide
themselves or someone else, they can find it.
Jen once got dangerously sick from drinking too much
too fast in an attempt to cope with work anxiety. One
of the DJs, Erin, helped her get through the disaster.
Erin can help out with rolls when identity comes into
question.
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Thirteen Tragedies
that branch out from the main area. These side rooms
are lined with velvet couches, tables interspersed,
some outfitted to be VIP areas. There’s an old crypt
that functions mostly as a storage area for various
speakers, electronic equipment, furniture, and decor.
The balconies circling the dance floor are roped off
for entry. Every room in the club is darkly lit, with
the occasional old religious statue along a wall or in
a corner. Despite being surrounded by people, the
loud music, darkness, and crowds make it easy to feel
isolated.
P r i m u m No n No c e r e
by Becky Annison
Content warnings: hospitals, cancer, child death,
medical malpractice
up on a normal ward with other people and proper
visiting hours. Nina and Asa are anxiously hoping for
good news.
Nina Walton has been in this hospital on this isolation
ward for 6 weeks, and she is fucking sick of it. The
nurses and doctors spend as little time with her as
possible, and she sees the fear in their eyes through
the hazmat suits. Whatever really happened in the
industrial accident that she, alone, survived, it has
everyone worried. Everyone except Asa. Asa comes in
to her room dressed the same as the others, but he is
so lonely and full of his own cares that chatting with
Nina and looking after her seems to be the highlight
of his day. An unlikely but surprisingly strong bond
of friendship has developed between them. For 6 long
weeks that friendship was the only thing that got Nina
through her enforced separation and Asa through his
crippling self-doubt.
The main characters
Nina Walton, 40. She is married to the love of her life
(Willa), and they have two adorable boys 3 and 5 years
old. Sadly, Nina is no stranger to hospitals. She hoped
never to be spend this much time in one again. She is
traumatised by childhood memories where she would
spend hours in this hospital as her parents anxiously
await test results and trialled treatment options for
the her kid brother Byron’s cancer. He eventually died,
despite the attempted intervetions. Her greatest fear is
that she will never see her family again, just like Byron.
Asa Driver, 27. Asa is one of the most junior nurses
at the hospital. He fought hard to get through nursing
school. Both of his parents died whilst he was studying,
and a problem with his inheritance meant relying on
loans and exhausted credit cards to get through his
exams. He isn’t sure he wants to be a nurse any more,
but he feels he owes one last chance to his parents and
their desperate wishes to see him succeed. His greatest
fear is that he will mess up and harm a patient.
Hospital life moves and flows around them. There is
a constant stream of new patients, new visitors and a
rotation of orderlies, nurses, and doctors. Asa knows
most of them by name but struggles to get close to
anyone. Nina was different, she really needed someone
to look after her, and Asa suddenly felt that he could
help someone after all.
The location
But today is results day! Dr. Finneon is coming to
Nina’s ward at the end of her rounds to let Nina know
if her tests are clear. It won’t get her out of the hospital
– she is still too weak for that. But it might get her
St James’s Hospital is an old Victorian teaching
hospital and is also the nearest emergency care unit
to the Highfield Factory disaster that injured Nina.
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Example scar scenes
This hospital is a maze. But Nina roamed these
corridors as a child, spending hours alone waiting for
her parents and brother. If Nina runs off deep into
the hospital or the cave-like underground system, she
can raise her anxiety score and for an extra die when
navigating its corridors.
There is one person in this hospital that remembers
Nina as a child. John Painter, the caretaker, is in his
early 70s now. However, he remembers that scared
little girl with parents too heartbroken to notice her.
He was kind to her then, and he will be kind to her
again if he can help her on a die roll.
The horror
It started as an innocent discussion. Three senior
doctors - Finneon, Shipley, and Bennett - complaining
about the lack of resources; how the patients weren’t
getting the care they needed because there wasn’t
enough to go around. They were worried, tired,
and open to anything. Then the Hospital started
whispering to them. The whispers pointed out the old
and frail who were going to die anyway, showed them
who needed to be helped and who was a burden. A
few decisions here, a slightly different drug dose there.
When the first patients died, it was easy to explain it
away; there were so many elderly people at St James’,
it was practically God’s waiting room. Besides, a few
virtually miraculous recoveries every year looked good
in the patient statistics. Young lives, people with a lot
to give back.
But the Hospital grows greedy. The Hospital demands
more blood, more victims - a handful of eighty-year
olds is no longer enough. The doctors can’t block out
the Hospital’s screaming in their ears and by now they
don’t even want to. They will make their sacrifices, or
the Hospital itself will take everyone.
A couple of weeks ago, Asa stopped an exhausted
junior doctor from making a near fatal mistake - one
Asa himself nearly made last year. Asa never reported
the near miss because everyone round here is tired,
strung out, and doing their best. Dr. Geraldine
Forrester owes Asa big time, and she knows it. She can
be brought into scenes if Asa needs a helping hand.
Asa had to fill in for the surgical nurses once. He hated
it. The pressure of the operating theatre was terrifying;
the patients are so much more vulnerable and exposed.
But if he can push through the fear and remember
where the surgical tools are kept, then he will get a
weapon.
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Thirteen Tragedies
It is a listed building that should have been retired
years ago, but sentiment and tradition have propped
up its decaying carcass. St James’ is riddled with
odd passages, abandoned wards, and a warren-like
underground level that is practically a cave system.
The hospital is busy, but despite the hundreds of daily
workers and visitors, there are many areas that feel
strangely remote and secluded. Places you wouldn’t
want to get lost in.
The Putnam
by Jason Morningstar
Content warnings: pregnancy, labour, racism, drugs,
drugging, gaslighting
baby, but are ready for the pregnancy to be over. Still,
Zia’s 22, about to enter the graduate program of their
dreams, madly in love, and perfectly happy despite
it all. That’s the story they tell, but deep down Zia is
anxious and sad. There’s homesickness - all this would
be so much easier surrounded by overbearing aunties and the powerful feeling that they just don’t belong. Zia
sees the looks and reads the paper. America is a dark
place and they feel it every day.
Zia and Nasim met in college, in America, fell in love,
and were married. In their final semester, Zia became
pregnant and they were overjoyed. Graduate study
beckoned, and both were accepted into competitive
programs across the country.
The new city isn’t great - it’s huge and noisy, and full of
busy, rude people. And it is astonishingly expensive.
After a week of apartment hunting in the summer, the
first twinge of apprehension crept into both Nasim
and Zia’s thoughts. Perhaps they had made a mistake.
Perhaps they should go home, get organized, and
return when the baby was a little older. Nasim talked
them out of it, but promised that if things got worse,
they’d revisit the decision. Things didn’t get worse. Zia
stumbled upon the Putnam instead.
Nasim Al-Rashid is Zia’s ambitious and good-hearted
spouse. They are well aware of the physical toll Zia’s
pregnancy is taking, and try to make things easier for
their partner. Also 22, Nasim is obsessed with a bright
future just out of reach - they will both earn prestigious
degrees and return to their families with honor and
respect. All that is just a few years away, but the truth is
that Nasim is a little naive and optimistic. They fancy
themself more American than Americans, and are
blind to the casual racism. They don’t really want that
bright future at all, if it means going home.
The Putnam is an elegant former hotel in a peaceful
corner of the city. It faces a park and a busy street. Zia
figured the Putnam would be out of their reach, but
the superintendent took one look at that pregnant belly
and assured Zia they had an apartment they could
afford up on the sixth floor. Zia and Nasim moved in
the next day, a little dazed at how easy it was.
Zia and Nasim are both gender neutral names and AlRashid means ‘the rightly guided’.
The location
The Putnam is a six story apartment building built in
the 1890s. Once a hotel, it boasts magnificent views
and elegant fin de siècle architectural details. The
building’s original purpose is obvious on the top floor,
where a pair of deluxe suits were converted into a
The main characters
Zia Al-Rashid is seven months pregnant and feels
every minute of it. They are excited to be having a
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Phones won’t work - the Littles have installed a jammer
on the roof. The elevator is blocked. The windows are
locked, and the fire escape is missing. The neighbors
will block their escape in any way they can.
Scars
Alone and hunted, Zia needs to hide. Zia’s player
narrates a flashback to their childhood - a stay in an
elegant hotel in Paris with their father. The hotel had
a dumbwaiter large enough for Zia. In a flash, Zia
remembers the garbage chute, and realizes they have
the key. Crawling into the filthy chute, the GM tells
Zia’s player to raise her anxiety score and add an extra
die any time she uses the chute.
The horror
The Putnam residents want Zia’s baby. They want it
out of her, and they want it dead. No explanation is
forthcoming, it is just an immutable fact.
But before that becomes obvious, the neighbors are
delightful. The Boyds, who could be grandparents,
bring a fresh-baked pie to welcome the young
couple. The Greens, an attractive gay couple in their
late thirties, all smiles and invitations to tour the
neighborhood and have brunch. The Littles, friendly
programmers who dropped everything to help the
Al-Rashids haul their few belongings up to their new
sixth-floor home. Eka, another student who lives alone.
Mr. Mendoza, the superintendent. Everyone is just
lovely.
Zia’s player narrates meeting Eka Darmawan, another
student who lives alone in the Putnam on the sixth
floor. Eka moved in pregnant, and the Putnam cult
took her baby. Eka barely remembers it and grieves in
quiet terror for their loss, isolated and far from home.
Everyone has been so kind. But now Zia sees an ally
in Eka. Zia’s player can now bring Eka Darmawan into
the story to provide help on action rolls.
There can be a party, or Mr. Mendoza can key into
their apartment, but either way both Zia and Nasim’s
drinks will be spiked with oxytocin. The hormone
kickstarts labor in Zia and causes both the Al-Rashids
to feel an overall sense of trust and calm. These feelings
are just the oxytocin talking, because their neighbors
are coming to kill them.
Zia will soon be doubled over by contractions that
are way, way too early. Zia and Nasim need to get to a
hospital, but first they need to get out of the Putnam.
Nasim’s player narrates them carefully setting up
their tiny kitchen. The two of them only own a single
kitchen knife, a heavy santoku Zia bought from a street
vendor. Nasim cut themself the first time they used it,
and the memory of blood spiraling into the sink is a
powerful one. Nasim raises their anxiety score by 2 and
has access to the knife, which can be used to gain an
extra die in any scene in which they use it.
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Thirteen Tragedies
number of small apartments, leaving an irregular maze
of winding corridors. The Putnam is served by a single
old elevator, which Zia relies on, and a grand staircase
that tops out on the fifth floor. Only the elevator
and some former servants’ stairs lead to the sixth. A
rooftop garden rounds out the charming residence.
T e s ta m e n t
by Oli Jeffery
Content warnings: alcohol, substance abuse, mental
health, domestic abuse
The main characters
Ellie Aaronson, 22. Ellie still lives in the same town
they were moved to after their mother’s disappearance,
only a couple of miles from their foster family’s home.
She moves from one low-investment, low-pay job to
another, until she tells either a customer or the boss to
fuck off before passing out in a bar she once got fired
from. Her greatest fear is that she’ll turn out like her
dad.
Caitlin and Ellie were nine and seven when their
mother Helena wandered off into the forest
surrounding their childhood home and didn’t come
back. Their father, Nick, had stormed out three days
previous, as he did every few months after a row, or
another affair, or just because he wanted to drink for
several straight days and not look up. By the time he
returned home, ready to play happy families again, the
kids had been taken into the care system. They haven’t
spoken to their father since; as far as they knew, he’s
been living in that big old house by himself - no need
to storm out when you’re all alone.Two weeks ago,
Nick finally managed to fulfil the destiny everyone else
could see coming for him, and drank himself to death.
Caitlin Aaronson, 24. Caitlin is ambitious and
determined to break free of past tragedies and her
own chronic anxiety and depression, though the
amount of pressure she puts on herself is helping
neither. She’s currently interning at Google and is
constantly checking back in with work, treating the
whole weekend as an inconvenience whilst repressing
anything that might lead her to the same breakdown
her mother suffered. Her greatest fear is that she won’t
be able to outrun herself, and she’ll too one day just
wander off into the woods, metaphorically or literally.
Cait and Ellie haven’t spent much time together since
leaving their foster home. Caitlin went off to college,
and her letters back to Ellie got fewer and fewer and
eventually stopped altogether. Ellie was resentful, but
ultimately almost grateful - Caitlin looked too much
like their mother, and that brought nothing but bad
memories. Her own reflection wasn’t much better, the
spit of her dad. So Ellie avoids mirrors, buzzes her
hair, and hides the resemblance under layers of fuckyou makeup. Now, Caitlin and Ellie have to spend the
weekend together, returning to their childhood home
to sort through the remnants of their father’s life and
recover what they can of their childhood.
The location
The Aaronson House was once beautiful, but it’s gone
to seed in the years that Nick’s been living there alone.
Outside, its faded grandeur is clear, but the inside
stinks of stale alcohol and abandoned takeout. The
smell gets worse as you move from the entrance toward
the room where the local Sheriff found Nick.
86
spiralled almost immediately into old arguments. As
the session begins, the sisters are not talking to each
other, and are sorting through opposite sides of the
house.
The horror
Example scar scenes
Helena Aaronson has been legally dead for years, Nick
declaring her death in absentia once he was sober
enough. Unfortunately for everyone involved, that’s
not the case. Helena always struggled with mental
illness, and Nick’s abusive behavior broke her utterly.
She’s been living wild in the vast woods surrounding
the house in the 15 years since her disappearance.
She recently found her way back to the house and
murdered Nick, taking him to be a trespasser in
her home. The signs of his liver failure were already
so apparent that nobody suspected any foul play.
Unrecognizable under a decade and a half of filth
and matted hair, Helena now lives in the house’s attic,
prepared to see off any intruders into her domain, and
unable to recognize even her own daughters.
Caitlin’s player narrates how during one of their
father’s drunken rages, their mother got a gun that the
girls didn’t even know they owned from a safe behind
a family portrait and threatened Nick with it. Nick
disarmed and beat Helena. The memory leaves Caitlin
nauseous, raising her anxiety score by one. But she can
now get the gun from behind the family portrait and
use it to gain an extra die on any roll involving the gun.
Caitlin remembers that during one of their parents’
most violent arguments, their mother took them to
stay with the only neighbour for miles around, Mr
Bryson. Her mother left them there overnight while
she went back to talk to Nick. When Mr Bryson
dropped them back the next day, Nick and Helena
acted as if nothing had ever happened. Caitlin’s player
can now bring Mr Bryson into the story to provide
help on rolls.
Who’s not there
Caitlin and Ellie were meant to meet the lawyer
handling their father’s will at the house. In fact, he is in
the house, but he’s fallen prey to Helena and is stuffed
under a bed in one of the back rooms. The smell
emanating from his body is masked by the general
miasma in the Aaronson house.
Ellie’s player wants to bring in some police assistance,
so she narrates the kindly but out of his depth sheriff
who brought her and Cait vending machine hot
chocolate when their parents both abandoned them.
She can now bring the older Sheriff Vaughn into play
to help with die rolls, though being a cop in this sort of
story is a highly dangerous role. He’ll likely be killed by
Helena after helping briefly.
What went wrong yesterday
Ellie and Cait met at the house yesterday, and the
pressure of the situation and the awkwardness of
seeing each other for the first time in a couple of years
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Thirteen Tragedies
The house is surrounded by thick woods. When his
writing career was successful, they were an inspiration
to Nick. As it floundered, sunk by a changing market
and his own substance abuse, they became a prison.
T i e s T h at B i n d
by Lauren McManamon
Content warnings: gaslighting, gang violence, family
trauma, alcohol, bad teenage relationships
teens, their got involved in a local gang. A few weeks
ago, they took part in a botched drug-deal. Yet while
they took the wrap, they also got away with much of
the stash. They managed to hide the stash on or in their
mum’s property on the night it happened. Once their
time is up, they’re free to do with her haul as they see
fit. But if they fail to comply with the house arrest? It’ll
be a long time in jail with nothing to show for it. They
fear becoming everything their mum said they would.
Ash and Tania are more or less estranged family living
in rural New Zealand. Even though Tania raised Ash as
a single parent through to teenagehood, they’re chalk
and cheese. Ash is a rebellious, angry punk, and Tania
is a retiree who believes in the paranormal and enjoys
gardening. They’ve barely spoken in the past four
years, as Ash left home to pursue a life with her gang,
the Katipos. (Katipo are a native, yet highly venemous,
black and red spider.)
Tania Wilson, 55 (she/her). Up until Ash’s arrest, Tania
lived alone on the old family property. Retired for a
couple of years now, she spends her time gardening,
creating amateur pottery, DIYing the house, and
engaging radio talk shows. Her favourite radio show
is NZ Paranormal hosted by Claudia Parata; a show
that takes calls from people who have experienced
supernatural phenomena. She’s somewhat of a believer
in ghostly entities herself. She’s mostly pleased her
child is back, even if there are arguments, shouting,
and slammed doors. She fears losing her child again.
However, Ash is now back home on house arrest for
three months with an ankle tie after a botched drug
deal. The good news? The stash is at least on their
mum’s property. The bad news? They have to put up
with mum’s well-meaning crap while they’re here.
No mobile service, patchy wi-fi, and only an old
Playstation 1 to pass the time. For Tania, perhaps this
is a chance to reconnect with her child after decades of
miscommunication. For Ash... no, this is kind of their
personal hell. Unfortunately for them, they’re both
right, as unknown forces begin menacing them one
fateful evening.
The location
The Wilson house has been a couple of things in its
time—a farmstead, an orphanage, house for deviant
youth, and now a family home with a couple of cows
and chickens. With its remodelling through each
phase of its life, it’s a trove of history, crawlspaces, and
plastered over secret rooms. The attic and basement
contain dusty relics from the present and previous
The main characters
Ashley “Ash” Wilson, 22 (any pronouns). Ash is the
young punk of their family. They moved away from
their rural home when they were young. In their late
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Ash recalls hastily burying the stash in the basement
just several weeks ago. They realise they dropped a
walkie-talkie they used to communicate with the
Katipo during the digging. The memory reminds Ash
just how terrifying and dangerous things are right
now. However, they can get the walkie-talkie and
use it on die rolls - such as listening in on the gang’s
whereabouts.
The horror
Ash’s gang, the Katipos, have figured out where Ash
lives right now, and suspect the Wilson house is the
location of their stash. True to their name, they’re
quiet, have the ability to get into anywhere, and are
pretty deadly. The Katipo would prefer to get in, find
the stash, get out, and move the stash with Ash stuck
on house arrest. This means things like unlocking the
basement hatch to root around in the scrap, creeping
into crawl spaces and the attic, turning a light on in
the outhouse to draw people outside, and cutting the
phone line. As they become more desperate to find the
stash during their heist, who knows what they’ll do.
Tania remembers the night her spouse left very well.
She remembers the guilt of leaving her child home
alone while she ran to her neighbour’s for consolation
in a friend and a bottle. Suzy McKay, a no-nonsense,
gun-toting farmer, gave her way too much whisky and
a promise that if shit ever went down, Tania could
count on her. Tania can now bring in Suzy to help with
die rolls.
Tania remembers the shock she felt when she caught
Ash handling a gun in their room six years ago.
Things escalated into a one-sided yelling match on
both ends about privacy and safety, ending in the gun
accidentally firing into the floorboards. Tania recalls
taking the gun from Ash’s shaking hands and storing it
forgotten in her closet. Tania raises her anxiety score,
but can now use the gun to gain an extra die when
using it in a roll.
Example scar scenes
While escaping a gang member, Ash remembers a
strange hidden passageway they found as a child the
night their other parent left. They clambered down
the vent-sized space and peeked through a hole in the
wall to witness a teary, ugly argument between their
parents. It ended in one picking up a packed bag and
leaving for good. Ash can now use that passage on a
roll to escape to another part of the house.
89
Thirteen Tragedies
tenants. It creaks and groans during strong winds, and
the electrics are known to flicker. Oh, and it still uses
an outhouse a short walk from the house. The place
is isolated, wi-fi is patchy, and mobile phone services?
Forget it. The faded red cord phone in the kitchen is
the only connection to the outside world.
Filmography
Absentia (2011)
Eden Lake (2008)
Directed by: Mike Flanagan
Flanagan’s feature debut immediately marked him as
the leading voice of melancholy horror. Two sisters,
one heavily pregnant and with a missing partner, the
other recovering from heroine addiction, are beset
by visions and a deeply disturbing take on a fairytale
monster, leading to an absolute gut-punch of a finale.
Directed by: James Watkins
Released right in the middle of the ‘Broken Britain’
panic, Eden Lake paints a particularly brutal picture of
contemporary British society. Nonchalance in the face
of extreme violence is the name of the game here, with
no optimism anywhere to be found.
Funny Games (2007)
Candyman (1992)
Directed by: Bernard Rose
Often bracketed with supernatural slashers like Friday
The 13th and A Nightmare On Elm Street, Candyman
has a completely different vibe – and a lot to say about
pain, racism, and the way the stories we tell ourselves
about evil shape the world we live in.
Directed by: Michael Haneke
Michael Haneke remade his own 1997 film of the same
title, having decided the original German version
didn’t disturb enough English-speakers. Expect to feel
like Haneke just personally popped round to punch
you, specifically, in the face, and that he really enjoyed
doing it.
Don’t Look Now (1973)
Frontier(s) (2007)
Directed by: Nicolas Roeg
A couple head to Venice after the tragic death of
their daughter, and things get weird. One of the best
regarded films about grief and desperation, it’s also got
creepy clairvoyants, and an ending that’ll burn itself
into your brain forever.
Directed by: Xavier Gens
Somehow, this film about a Muslim gang fleeing riots
in Paris and falling into the clutches of neo-Nazis has
only become more harrowing since it was released in
2007. This is feel-bad cinema at its most extreme.
90
Hush (2016)
Haute Tension / Switchblade Romance
(2003)
Ils / Them (2006)
Directed by: Mike Flanagan
If the idea of dealing with a psychopath who’s planning
to invade your home and murder you wasn’t already
terrifying enough, imagine doing it without being able
to hear the killer creeping up on you – or to scream
for help. Mike Flanagan plays with the conventions of
the slasher genre by making his final girl deaf-mute,
and ramps up the desperation of her plight at the same
time.
Directed by: Mike Flanagan
This adaptation of Shirley Jackson’s novel changes
a lot, and has far too many characters to be directly
analogous to a game of Quietus, but it absolutely
defines melancholy horror, and its many flashback
scenes are perfect scar material. That, and the bit in the
car makes everyone scream out loud the first time they
see it, so that’s got to be a recommendation, right?
Directed by: David Moreau and Xavier Palud
Heavy on the suspense and determined to make you
feel unsafe in your own home – or anywhere else you
happen to be – Ils is another product of the mid-2000s
terror where just existing might be enough to attract
the attention of bloodthirsty, nihilistic killers. Maybe it
is.
Directed by: Alexandre Aja
Besties Marie and Alex head to Alex’s parents’ house
for a study break, but all is not what it seems in this
extremely tense, extremely gory French movie. Don’t
think too hard about the mechanics of the plot – it
definitely doesn’t stand up to a rewatch – but the
atmosphere is suitably downbeat.
In Fear (2013)
Directed by: Jeremy Lovering
Still in the honeymoon phase of their relationship, Tom
and Lucy are driving through the Irish countryside
in search of the luxury hotel they’re statying at that
night. Except the roads all seem to lead in circles, the
hotel may not exist, and someone is stalking them in
the shadows. A great example of just how terrifying
a motiveless killer can be and (spoiler alert) how to
handle one character dying a while before the end.
Hereditary (2018)
Directed by: Ari Aster
Something happens in Hereditary that’s so
unimaginably awful that, for a moment, both the
characters on screen and the audience watching are
paralysed.
How do you process something like that? How do
you move on when something like that can happen,
and there’s no way back? Absolutely bone-chilling,
absolutely masterful.
91
Filmography
The Haunting of Hill House (TV 2018)
The Invitation (2015)
The Loved Ones (2012)
Directed by: Karyn Kusama
Social anxiety is the main villain here. A man takes his
new girlfriend to a party at his former partner’s house,
and finds that she’s joined some kind of cult. Are they
as sinister as they seem, or is his barely suppressed
grief and guilt just making it seem that way? Pure
nightmare fuel for anyone who’s ever agonised over
trying to leave a social event early.
Directed by: Sean Byrne
If movies have taught us anything, it’s that anyone who
doesn’t get to have the perfect prom will become a
homicidal maniac. If you’re squeamish, skip this one –
it’s got some of the most painful-looking (and painfulsounding) torture around.
Martyrs (2008)
Directed by: Pascal Laugier
Some abuses can’t be forgiven – or forgotten. Is there a
point to suffering? The demented philosophers in this
movie might say so, but the events of the film suggest
otherwise. Bleak, bleak, so unendingly bleak.
It Follows (2014)
Directed by: David Robert Mitchell
Maybe sex has always spelled death for teenagers in
horror films, but never quite so explicitly as it does in It
Follows, where a sexually transmitted ghoul slowly but
surely stalks its victims. Eros and Thanatos, indeed.
May (2002)
Directed by: Lucky McKee
Bullied throughout her life, unable to relate to her
colleagues, and rejected romantically for being too
weird, lonely May decides the only way to make
friends is to, well, make herself a friend in this deeply
upsetting, deliriously gory nightmare of a film.
Kill List (2011)
Directed by: Ben Wheatley
It’s the sound design that’ll get you. Shouting and
screaming bleed from one scene to another, leading
a sinister edge to otherwise innocuous scenes of
domesticity. Nothing’s safe here, even when it looks it –
whatever disastrous thing happened to hitmen Jay and
Gal in Kyiv, they won’t get much of a chance to deal
with it before fate comes knocking.
Midsommar (2019)
Directed by: Ari Aster
Aster’s follow-up to the wrenching Hereditary is
mostly set in a bright, sunshiney Swedish commune
where everyone’s happy... until they’re not. But though
the scenery is different, there’s a similar vein of dark
despair running through Midsommar, as yet another
unimaginably awful tragedy strikes.
L’Interieur / Inside (2007)
Directed by: Julien Maury and Alexandre Bustillo
Trauma piles on top of trauma here, as poor pregnant
widowed Sarah finds herself at the mercy of a stalker
hellbent on stealing her unborn child. Think of a
traumatic event and it’s virtually guaranteed to happen
to her in this movie. If this script were a game, well,
let’s just say her player definitely didn’t win.
92
Directed by: Juanfer Andrés, Esteban Roel
A Spanish melodrama that’s almost in the Douglass
Sirk vein initially, as older sister Montse pines for her
lost youth when she’s left caring for her younger sister
Nia after their mother dies and their father abandons
them. Things take a turn from miserable to Misery
when their handsome upstairs neighbour injures
himself while drunk and Monste takes it on herself
to nurse him back to health. Then, tragic backstory
unfolds and it descends into a hideously gory, but no
less melodramatic finale.
Resolution (2012)
Directed by: Justin Benson and Aaron Moorhead
Two former friends reunite at a remote cabin in the
woods. One of them is a paranoid drug addict, the
other is an outwardly successful, happily married
graphic designer. But there’s something in the woods
that might unravel them both – and you, the hapless
viewer, are far from innocent.
Spoorloos / The Vanishing (1988)
The Neon Demon (2016)
Directed by: Nicholas Winding Refn
If you’re in a particularly abstract mood, you could run
a game of Quietus where the horror is an entire city or
industry, as we have in The Neon Demon. Here, the LA
fashion industry eats young aspiring model Jesse alive,
literally and figuratively.
Directed by: George Sluizer
A man searches obsessively for his girlfriend, who
disappeared mysteriously one day after having
recurring nightmares about being inside a golden
egg. What happened to her? The answer is simple, but
unrelentingly horrible. You could definitely play this
scenario as a game of Quietus.
Nina Forever (2015)
The Strangers (2008)
Directed by: Ben and Chris Blaine
Getting over the loss of a loved one is hard enough
even without their broken and bloodied ghost showing
up every time you get sexy with a new partner. The
desperation is palpable in this one. It’s brilliant
Directed by: Bryan Bertino
While not the best film on this list (and probably
not even the best film in The Strangers series), The
Strangers is the most direct inspiration for this game,
and features motiveless killers, two main characters,
tragic flashbacks, a side character who shows up to
help and immediately dies, and an epilogue showing
the results of the trauma. If you only watch one film on
this list before running Quietus, make it this one.
Oculus (2013)
Directed by: Mike Flanagan
Along with The Strangers, Oculus is one of the key
touchpoints for the game, and a serious gut-punch of
a film. Think cycles of abuse, think generational scars,
think spectres lurking in dark corners.
93
Filmography
Hope can’t survive for more than a few moments
in this film without being shattered. Probably Mike
Flanagan’s finest work. Not to be watched alone.
Musarañas / Shrew’s Nest (2014)
The Strangers: Prey At Night (2018)
Under the Shadow (2016)
Suzzanna: Buried Alive (2018)
The Woman in Black (2012)
Directed by: Johannes Roberts
Scarier and more fun than the original, with the
addition of a largely unexplained 80s pop soundtrack.
The scene around the swimming pool - soundtracked
by Total Eclipse of the Heart - is a perfect example of
several desperate rolls at once, one which raises hope,
one which raises despair, without either fully defeating
the horror or killing the main character. The titular
strangers remain an archetypal Quietus horror.
Directed by: Babak Anvari
Hard to know what the scariest part of this film is:
the evil djinn, the encroaching Iran/Iraq war, or the
demonstration of how an entire society’s values can
change – almost overnight. Actually, it’s definitely the
last one, as our heroine Shideh is brave and smart
enough to fight the supernatural, but can’t be expected
to bring down the whole political system that seeks to
oppress her because of her gender.
Directed by: Rocky Soraya
Part love letter to Indonesian horror queen Suzzanna,
part revenge movie, Suzzanna: Buried Alive is a
heartbreaker about what happens when a pregnant
woman is thoughtlessly murdered by her husband’s
employees. It’s funny and creepy, too, but oh, so sweetly
sad.
Directed by: James Watkins
Technically a supernatural horror movie, but plays very
much like a flesh-and-blood home invasion movie. It’s
also a good example of how a main character’s scars
can keep them in a location when they really ought to
leave.
Suspiria (2018)
Directed by: Luca Guadagnino
The remake of Dario Argento’s 1977 witchy
masterpiece ramps up the psychological horror, and
makes the story’s Berlin setting much more relevant.
Evil matriarchs abound, with layer upon layer of guilt
piled on.
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Ki c k s t a r t e r B a c k e r s
Maurine Dean “The book awakened something dark in the woods.”
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96
9S
Q U I E T U
IT’S 3 AM. THERE’S SOMEONE IN YOUR HOUSE. THEY’RE GOING TO KILL YOU.
QUIETUS is a one shot, prepless RPG of melancholy horror. It’s a game for a GM and one or
two players, and emulates tragic horror movies like Oculus, The Strangers, The Babadook, Inside
and the Netflix version of The Haunting of Hill House. If a piece of fiction can make you cry and
scream, then it’s a great model for the sort of stories that you can tell with QUIETUS.
Powered by a stripped down version of the award-winning Blades in the Dark engine, you’ll
create characters with tragic backstories, and send them hurtling headlong into a nightmare
where their past trauma might be the only thing that saves them.
PLAYERS
TIME
AGES
2-3
1 - 2 HOURS
15+